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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24971770">Spring Term</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celine_Lister/pseuds/Celine_Lister'>Celine_Lister</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love In The Time Of Corona [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gentleman Jack (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fluff, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:40:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>181,939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24971770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celine_Lister/pseuds/Celine_Lister</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Second half of the school year after Anne and Ann were quarantined together. I guess? Smut, fluff, no angst., etc. etc.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Ann Walker (1803-1854)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love In The Time Of Corona [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700641</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1120</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>391</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. So Impossibly Vulgar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Gosh, summaries are hard to write.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Keep it in your pants, Lister,” Tib bellowed as they emerged from the station. Anne was half-tempted to turn around and forget the whole thing, but Ann squeezed her hand. It had been a rather chaste kiss, just on the cheek, meant to reassure her wife in the crush of the crowd. “Don’t scowl. Come on.”</p><p>Tib took Ann’s bags from her hands, grinning widely; under the weight of their three other bags, Anne struggled to keep her normal brisk pace. Tib looked good, now four months sober. Her face had lost the puffiness, and her stomach had lost its paunch. She was exercising more, she’d told Anne, to curb the cravings. It certainly showed. </p><p>“And how are you, Miss Walker? Handling this beast?”</p><p>“Hardly a beast, Tib, come now,” Ann laughed, “Anne is perfectly respectful.”</p><p>“How times change,” Tib teased. “I wonder how I even recognize you.”</p><p>Tib clapped a hand around Anne’s shoulder, and Anne got a big whiff of smoke. Another way to avoid drinking, Anne guessed. They made their way to Tib’s SUV, Ann in the passenger seat, Anne in the back. Their bags were piled high behind and beside her - Ann had certainly overpacked.</p><p>“So she’s behaving?” Tib asked as they entered the afternoon London traffic.</p><p>“Yes!” Anne leaned forward, putting a hand on the back of Ann’s seat. “Obviously.”</p><p>“You see?” Ann teased, putting a hand over Anne’s. “If I weren’t so calm, I don’t know what would become of us.”</p><p>    “It’s all in your power, darling,” Anne said with a laugh. </p><p>    “I hardly recognize you, Lister!”</p><p>    “I could say the same to you. Sobriety looks good on you.”</p><p>    “It’s bloody hard work,” Tib laughed, “but I am enjoying it. My clothes actually fit again.”</p><p>    Tib’s apartment was all sleek lines and tall windows and soft blues and greys. Not Anne’s style, but she had to admit it was decorated in good taste. When was the last time she’d been here? Six years ago? Maybe seven. An ill-advised night on the town. Good Lord, had she slept with Tib that night? Anne tried not to dwell on it.</p><p>    “I’ve put you two in down here,” Tib said, leading them to a spare room. Anne had forgotten how large the apartment was. “Think you can keep it down for one night?”</p><p>    “I’ll do my best,” Ann said in mock-sincerity, which made Tib laugh. </p><p>    “So I thought we’d have dinner out, if that’s alright? Lister knows I can’t cook for shit, and I’ve made us reservations. Sushi? Sound good?”</p><p>    “Sounds great,” Anne answered. “We appreciate you putting us up for the night. ”</p><p>    The plan was to spend tonight, the 28th, with Tib, then tomorrow she’d drive them to the airport for their early afternoon flight. In just over 24 hours, they’d be in Paris. Anne couldn’t stop smiling.</p><p>    “We’ll leave in about thirty, eh?” Tib clapped Anne on the back and disappeared down the hall. She called behind her, “wear something nice, Lister, you look like hell.”</p><p>    Scoffing, Anne rolled her eyes as her wife draped her arms around her neck. She squeezed her hips playfully and looked around the room. A good size, all in all, a large bed, bathroom connected. Everything decorated in a steely blue. Tall windows overlooking the street far below. She sometimes forgot how wealthy Tib was. </p><p>    “She’s nice,” Ann teased.</p><p>    “She’s somehow worse sober,” Anne answered dryly. “She’s practically spinning out with all the energy.”</p><p>    “What should I wear?”</p><p>    “Nothing,” Anne purred, dipping her head to catch Ann’s lips. </p><p>    They danced backwards, slowly, toward that inviting bed. Ann’s hands cupped her face, holding her steady as her tongue slipped between Anne’s lips. She sputtered as the backs of her knees hit the bed, then grinned up at Anne, pulling her down to kiss her again. </p><p>    “I was thinking - Jesus Christ, Lister, come on!” Tib’s sharp voice cut between them. Anne huffed, dropping heavily onto the bed next to her wife; Ann had flopped backward and was now lying flat, her hands over her face. “I didn’t even make it to the kitchen before you’re shagging in my bed.”</p><p>    “What can I say?” Anne shrugged. “I keep telling you to get in a real relationship. There are benefits.”</p><p>    Ann smacked her thigh. </p><p>    “I actually am,” Tib said proudly, “and she’s joining us tonight.”</p><p>    “So much mystery,” Anne heaved herself to her feet, moving to root through her suitcase. “I’m shivering with antici-”</p><p>    “Pation!” Tib yelled as she clomped down the hall. </p><p>    Anne laughed with a shake of her head. She was glad, actually, that her friend had found a more constant companion. Her life always seemed so lonely, down here in London, far from her family. That bookstore never seemed to have many customers. An endless stream of faceless women in and out of Tib’s bed, empty bottles lining every possible surface - that’s how Anne pictured her. In reality, she seemed perfectly well-adjusted. Just where a woman her (and Anne’s) age would be. If she could settle down, that would certainly help ease the loneliness, Anne thought. She’d have everything she needed. Everything she wanted, too.</p><p>    “What do I wear, Adney?” She held up a grey sweatshirt. “This?”</p><p>    “Pony,” Ann admonished, “just move.”</p><p>    Yes, there were certainly benefits to being in a relationship, Anne thought as she watched her wife’s pert little behind bob in the air. She was bending over, sorting through their neatly packed bags. Had those jeans always been so tight? Anne licked her lips. </p><p>    “How about this?” Ann turned around, holding up navy trousers and a pale green sweater. “Oh, settle down, Pony.”</p><p>    “What?” Anne asked innocently.</p><p>    “I can hear your dirty thoughts from here! We don’t have time. I smell like the train, and I want to make a good impression on your friend.”</p><p>    Anne could only groan in defeat and watch helplessly as her wife padded into the bathroom. Dutifully, she dressed in the clothes Ann had laid out - the navy slacks, white collared shirt, light grey tie, and the green sweater. Ann certainly liked to put her in as much color as possible, didn’t she? Anne studied herself in the mirror, marveling at the difference it made in her complexion; she seemed healthier, somehow, her skin rosier. What was that about?</p><p>    “Just staring at yourself now, eh?” Tib reappeared. “Little woman picked out your clothes?”</p><p>    “Be quiet.” Anne went to close the door - why hadn’t they done that already? She could hear Tib protesting from behind the thick wood. “What? Oh no, Tib, I can’t hear you, oh, too bad.”</p><p>    She flopped back onto the bed as Ann emerged from the shower, all glistening and gorgeous and tempting. She shook her head when Anne reached for her. </p><p>    “No, Pony,” she said as if scolding a child. “There’s no time.”</p><p>    Anne just had to watch, helpless, as Ann dried her perfect little body, as she put on her skimpy little bra, her tiny little panties, her short little dress. She groaned aloud as Ann sat on the edge of the bed to pull on stockings. </p><p>    “It’s not fair, Adney,” she pouted, clenching her fists. “You’re teasing me on purpose.”</p><p>    “Maybe I am,” Ann pulled on her short boots, “and there’s nothing you can do about it.”</p><p>    Tib swung the door open, no warning. Ann yelped.</p><p>    “Tib!” Anne reprimanded. “Come on, seriously.”</p><p>    “It’s time to go,” Tib shrugged innocently. “Let’s go.”</p><p>    The walk to the restaurant was short, and Anne was grateful for the December chill. It forced Ann to cuddle into her side, wrapping her tiny arms around Anne’s and snuggling into the thick wool of her greatcoat. Ann’s left hand clasped in her right and shoved deep in the pocket. Perfection, Anne thought, surely. Tib chattered nonstop on the way, pausing only to suck at the cigarette between her fingers. </p><p>    “Here we are,” she opened the door for them, then addressed the young woman behind the podium, “Norcliffe.”</p><p>    The restaurant was only half-full, it being a weeknight, and Anne was grateful for that. Poor Ann was going to have a big week, and she was certainly excited, but Anne would hate to overwhelm her on their first night away from home, at a sushi restaurant of all places. </p><p>    “So where’s your girl?” Ann asked Tib.</p><p>    “Almost here,” Tib looked at her phone. “Any moment.”</p><p>    “Looking forward to meeting her,” Anne offered.</p><p>    Tib gave her a strange look, but said nothing. For, at that very moment, Frances Pickford burst into the entryway. Was this -? It couldn’t be. Certainly not. Anne watched her kiss Tib on the cheek. No. That couldn’t be right.</p><p>    “Hi, Dr. Lister,” Pic said cheerily. “You must be Ann Walker,” she held her hand out, “I think I ran into you in Dr. Lister’s office once.”</p><p>    “That was me,” Ann said slowly, shaking Pic’s hand.</p><p>    “Tib, this is your -” Anne asked, looking between her friend and her student. “This is your girlfriend?”</p><p>    “Yep.” Tib grinned broadly, stepping past her as the hostess led them to their table. </p><p>    Ann looked up at her quizzically, but Anne had no answer. Surely this was some kind of ploy by Pic. Some way to get closer to her. Poor Tib, she thought. No way was Anne going to sit through dinner with this - this sham of a relationship. She was going to set Pic straight. As they reached the table, Anne grabbed Pic by the back of the jumper, one of those thick, fisherman knit ones. Pic looked up at her in confusion. </p><p>    “Come here,” she hissed, dragging her back to the entrance. Anne could hear Tib protesting behind them, but she ignored her. “What the hell are you doing?”</p><p>    “I was trying to have dinner,” Pic said slowly.</p><p>    “What are you doing with Tib?”</p><p>    “Dating.” Pic shrugged. “It’s been about two months. Our anniversary was a few days ago.”</p><p>    “You’re not dating her.”</p><p>    “I -” Pic looked at her like she’d lost her mind. Perhaps she had. “I absolutely am. You sent me to her shop, don’t you remember?”</p><p>    “Yeah, to get a book!” </p><p>    This, of course, was not entirely true, but Anne hadn’t expected anything <i>serious</i> to come of it. Certainly not a two-month-long relationship. Certainly not the happiest Tib had seemed in a long time. What was Pic playing at?</p><p>    “And Tib was there, and we hit it off, and - I mean, I don’t know what to tell you.”</p><p>    Narrowing her eyes, Anne studied her. Gauged her sincerity. She did seem resolute, if nothing else. </p><p>    “Tell me this:” Anne stepped closer, “that you’re here for Tib. If this is some game of yours - like that day in my office -”</p><p>    “It’s not!” Pic looked absolutely serious. “I promise. This is about me and Tib. That’s it. Nothing to do with you.”</p><p>    “What the hell is this?” Tib demanded. “Can’t sit down at the table? Making some kind of scene by the door?”</p><p>    “We’re not making a scene,” Anne said flatly. “You know what, actually, yeah, Tib, this is great. I want to talk to you.”</p><p>    “Let’s do it at the table!”</p><p>    “No, right now.” And then Anne watched Tib pat Pic on the lower back, a silent message passing between them, and then Pic was moving, disappearing into the restaurant and, presumably, to their table. Interesting. “What are you doing with Frances Pickford?”</p><p>    “Shagging her!” Tib said, perhaps a little too loudly. She looked over her shoulder. “Dating her, whatever. It’s been just over two months. You sent her to me!”</p><p>    “I did not-”</p><p>    “You give my card to a lot of students, do you? Young, boots-wearing ones with short haircuts? Yeah? What did you think I was going to do?”</p><p>    “Tib,” Anne sighed, “she’s half your age.”</p><p>    “Ann Walker is twelve years younger than you!”</p><p>    “That’s different!”</p><p>    “How!”</p><p>    Anne opened her mouth, but she didn’t have a response. She bit her lip, shifted her weight, looked back up at her friend. </p><p>    “She’s barely out of uni. She just graduated in December.”</p><p>    “I’m aware,” Tib said stiffly.</p><p>    “What could you two possibly have in common?”</p><p>    “What do you and Ann have in common? You’ve travelled the world and studied fifteen languages and shagged a million broads, and she’s barely left Yorkshire!” Tib seemed to catch herself. She sighed and started again. “Look, I’m not saying I’m going to marry Frankie, but I am rather serious about her. Maybe it’s being sober for the first time in a few decades. Maybe it’s her. Maybe it’s nothing. But I’ll thank you to give it half a chance before you dismiss us.”</p><p>   Anne chewed the inside of her cheek. Exhaling sharply, she nodded.</p><p>    “Alright?”</p><p>    “Alright,” Anne answered.</p><p>    They made their way back to the table, finding Ann and Pic talking animatedly. </p><p>    “Are you done?” Ann hissed as she sat down. </p><p>    “Yes.”</p><p>    “Don’t do that again,” Ann whispered, not even looking up from her menu. “So rude.”</p><p>    Anne just clicked her tongue and scanned the menu. No drinks, she guessed. That was okay. Just as well. Their server appeared quickly, leaving the quartet staring at each other uncomfortably. Ann’s words rang in her ears - her actions were terribly gauche, weren’t they? She was just trying to look out for Tib. </p><p>    “What will you be doing in Paris?” Tib asked. </p><p>    “Oh, anything,” Ann answered. “I’ve never been.”</p><p>    “I have a few ideas,” Anne smiled and draped her arm along the back of her wife’s chair. “It’ll be New Year’s, so that’s always fun.”</p><p>    “Do you have New Year’s plans?” Ann asked the couple. </p><p>    “Not yet,” Pic looked to Tib, “I don’t think.”</p><p>    “Something lowkey,” Tib winked. “Not sure I can handle a pub at midnight, but, uh, maybe something at home.”</p><p>    There - that was it. Anne hadn’t seen that glint in Tib’s eyes for years. The attraction between these two was palpable. Ann put a hand on her knee under the table. Perhaps she was staring. </p><p>    It was actually a lovely meal, all things considered. The food itself was delicious. The ambiance was excellent. The company - well, it left a few things to be desired. At first, their conversation was easy and natural and boisterous in the way that it usually was with Tib. Lots of bawdy jokes and banging on the table and swearing, which, of course, begat laughter and then more jokes and on and on and on. That was fine. It was nice, actually. Anne enjoyed herself. But then Tib had made excuses for the loo, and Pic had followed her a few minutes later. </p><p>    “Want to be sure she’s not - uh - sneaking a drink,” Pic said as she rushed to the back of the restaurant.”</p><p>    They were gone for - well, it felt like hours.</p><p>    “D’you think they’re shagging?” Anne asked her wife.</p><p>    “Absolutely,” Ann laughed, pushing her empty plate away. “They’ve been gone for what, -”</p><p>    “Eight and a half minutes,” Anne said seriously, putting her arm back around Ann’s chair.</p><p>    “So precise,” Ann smiled, straightening her tie. “Do you want to go check on them?”</p><p>    “Well - no! I just - well, it’s kind of rude, isn’t it?”</p><p>    “Let them have it, Pony.”</p><p>    “Their food’s getting cold.”</p><p>    “It’s sushi,” Ann giggled. “It’s supposed to be cold.”</p><p>    “Here we are!” Tib was out of breath as she sat down. Pic’s jumper seemed to be on backwards. “Nasty line back there.”</p><p>    “I bet,” Anne said dryly.</p><p>    “Don’t do that,” Tib laughed. “What are you, a nun? Give it up.”</p><p>    “What are you going to do for work, Frances?” Ann diverted the conversation.</p><p>    “What?” Pic was still looking at Tib. “Oh, uh, uh, I have a job. Um, yep, with a publisher. Nothing fancy. Barely pays, but, um, but yeah.”</p><p>    “Very good,” Anne said with a genuine smile. “I’m pleased for you.”</p><p>    “Thank you, Dr. Lister.”</p><p>    “Call me Anne, Pic, please. You’ve graduated. You’ve just -” Ann squeezed her knee under the table, “you’ve just waited in a very long line with one of my oldest friends. Surely, we’re on a first name basis.”</p><p>    “Sure,” Pic smiled. “Yeah. Thank you, Anne.”</p><p>    “Oh, <i>God</i>,” Tib groaned. “Did you really have to pick someone with the same name as yourself, Lister? It’s so narcissistic I can’t believe it.”</p><p>    “Oh, hush,” Ann admonished her with a smile, holding her hand out for Anne to pass her her wallet; Anne was almost always tasked with carrying it when Ann didn’t bother with a purse. She handed her card to the server. “It’s a nice coincidence.”</p><p>    “You ever think she’s calling out her own name?” Tib licked her lips. “You know what I mean, Miss Walker?”</p><p>    “Tib!” Pic and Anne cried in unison; they both laughed. </p><p>    “Honestly, Tib, you’d think you were raised in a barn,” Anne said dryly. </p><p>    “I was! You’ve met my mother.”</p><p>    “Thank you, Ann Walker, for dinner,” Pic interjected.</p><p>    “This was really nice,” Ann said as she signed the check and passed the card back to her wife; Anne was also frequently in charge of putting everything back. Not that she minded. “We should do this more often.”</p><p>    “Absolutely,” Tib grinned, standing up. “How about a night cap?”</p><p>    “I hope you mean tea,” Pic scolded her playfully.</p><p>    “All our stuff is at your house, Tib, you’d bloody well better invite us back,” Anne laughed as they made their way outside. </p><p>    Almost immediately, Tib lit a cigarette, offering Anne one. She declined, but then Ann nudged her. She really had a thing for smoke, didn’t she? Strolling down the street, smoking and laughing and huddled up with the women they loved? It was everything she and Tib had ever dreamed. Not that she knew if, technically, Tib and Pic were <i>in love</i>, but it certainly seemed more poetic if they were. It was hard to fathom how far they had come, since the late ‘90s. Holding hands on the street. Out in public. A double date of all women. Anne felt supremely, intensely proud. How far they’d come. Not just proud, she realized; she was tremendously grateful as well. </p><p>    “How about wine?” Tib offered once they were back in her apartment. </p><p>    “Tea is fine,” Ann said.</p><p>    “It’s actually better, for me, if you all would drink alcohol.” Tib was standing next to her near-empty bar; Anne had never even seen the marble top. It was usually covered in bottles and sticky residue. “Helps me practice. I know I won’t slip up with you around,” she wrapped an arm around Pic’s waist, “so you’d be doing me a favor.”</p><p>    “Well, if we can <i>help</i> you,” Anne teased, sitting on Tib’s expensive and uncomfortable couch, “by all means.”</p><p>    Ann sat next to her, leaning slightly into her side; she wasn’t always comfortable with PDA, Anne knew, but this was Tib, after all. Anne put her arm around the couch behind her, a slightly possessive move she found herself doing more and more. Was it because of Pic? Or Tib? Or did it just feel good to have Ann that much closer?</p><p>    “Here we are.” Pic handed them each a glass of wine. She seemed to hover until Tib returned with a cup of tea. “Anything I can do for you, babe?”</p><p>    Good Lord, Anne thought, they’re one of <i>those</i> couples. “Babe” this and “babe” that. As if they hadn’t just left the dinner table to screw in the bathroom. </p><p>    “Just come here,” Tib purred, sitting in the broad armchair and pulling Pic into her lap. Giggling, Pic sat on Tib’s knee, a position that felt vaguely familiar to Anne. “Isn’t this nice? The four of us. Two good-looking couples, I’d say.”</p><p>    “Yes,” Anne managed, distracted by the way Tib’s hand slid up Pic’s thigh. “Yes, it is.”</p><p>    Frankly, she didn’t hear much of the conversation for the rest of the night. It was distasteful, wasn’t it? The way Pic tugged on Tib’s collar, whispered in her ear, the surprised giggle when Tib tipped her out of her lap, the yelp when Tib slapped her on the behind when she returned from the toilet. They were all over each other! Wasn’t that bad manners? It certainly didn’t seem polite. </p><p>    “I’m dying for a smoke,” Tib said at last, “care to join me?”</p><p>    Pic jumped to her feet, but so did Ann. Anne looked up her wife quizzically. Tugging her upright, Ann whispered in her ear.</p><p>    “I love the way you taste when you’ve been smoking. Just one, Pony. We’re on holiday.”</p><p>    “You’re bad for my health, Miss Walker,” she teased quietly as they followed Tib to the balcony.</p><p>    “Fucking hell,” Pic said once they got outside, “it’s cold as balls.”</p><p>    Ah, Anne thought, this is why they get along so well. Both so impossibly vulgar. Tib seemed to notice her wincing as she handed her a lit cigarette. Ann nuzzled into her side. Anne could only sigh; the things she did for her wife. </p><p>    “When did you get so buttoned-up, Lister?” </p><p>    “I’m not.”</p><p>    “You are,” Tib countered. “You forget how well I know you. For how long.”</p><p>    “Don’t do this.”</p><p>    “Do what?”</p><p>    “Embarrass me.”</p><p>    “Why not?” Tib grinned. “How much does young Annie know about your past?”</p><p>    “She knows plenty.”</p><p>    “I’d like to know more,” Pic piped up.</p><p>    “Absolutely not,” Anne said firmly. “I can’t have my students -”</p><p>    “I’ve graduated. I promise I won’t tell.”</p><p>    “Or I’ll have to punish you,” Tib purred, squeezing a hand around her hip.</p><p>    Vomit. </p><p>    “How about the time Lister and I tried to negotiate a threesome?” </p><p>    “Tib!”</p><p>    “It’s true,” Tib shrugged. “That Miss Brown, do you remember?”</p><p>    Anne’s face colored. Of course she remembered.</p><p>    “It wasn’t -” Anne turned to her wife. “It wasn’t like that at all.”</p><p>    “What was it like?” </p><p>Ann had a wondering kind of smile on her face. Looking up at Anne, her arms around Anne’s middle, she’d never looked so angelic. Sweet. Innocent. Anne could never deny her. </p><p>    “We just - well, I was trying to get Miss Brown to go out with me. And then Tib over here - she had to stick her nose in it.”</p><p>    “What’d you do?” Pic asked.</p><p>    “Lister couldn’t seal the deal! I made up this little game about getting through the garden gate. That Lister charged a kiss for it. So I planted a fat one on her.” Anne felt her cheeks burning; would this torture never end? “And then Miss Brown - well, Lister, you tell.”</p><p>    “She, um,” Anne bit her lip, “she kissed me, but - I mean, nothing further came of it.”</p><p>    “Bad kisser,” Tib said to Pic. </p><p>    “I am not!” Anne cried.</p><p>    “I mean,” Tib shrugged, “I’m just going off the evidence. Why else would she stop seeing you after that?”</p><p>    “Maybe because it was weird! Watching your friend kiss someone else, and then kissing them, and -” Anne shook her head. “I don’t know why you thought that would work.” Tib laughed. “And I would hardly call it negotiating a threesome!”</p><p>    “A girl can dream,” Tib said wistfully. </p><p>    “I cannot believe you would even bring that up.”</p><p>    “You’ve gotten so boring!” Tib protested.</p><p>    “I don’t know about that,” Ann came to her defense.</p><p>    “Thank you, darling.”</p><p>    “Even that,” Tib sucked her teeth, “‘darling.’ You’re all domestic now. No bite. No teeth. No risks.”</p><p>    “I have to disagree with you there, Tib,” Ann said with a shy smile. “Anne takes plenty of risks.”</p><p>    “Like what?” Tib’s eyes shone with mischief. “Give us an example.”</p><p>    “Like none of your business,” Anne shot back. “I’m going to bed.”</p><p>    “Come on, Lister! All three of us, right here, we’ve all been in love with you at some point. You can’t be embarrassed around us.”</p><p>    Anne opened her mouth to protest, but she had no answer. Sure, she supposed, each of the women here on the balcony had been, well, interested in her. At one time or another. She felt rather shy around them, though she couldn’t imagine why. Ann and Tib had certainly seen her at her most vulnerable. Ann had held her when she cried, had breached boundaries no other woman had, had shared her bed at Shibden, wore her ring, been welcomed into her family; Tib found her in her formative years, had taught her so much about sex and love and identity. Pic, of course, had never gotten that far; nothing physical at all had happened between them, but she had been Anne’s pet for a few years. She shifted uncomfortably. This was hardly an enviable position. </p><p>    “I was not in love with Dr. Lister,” Pic chimed in, “though I had a big crush.”</p><p>    “Makes sense that you’d take the upgrade,” Tib purred. “I taught Anne everything she knows.”</p><p>    “You say that,” Anne laughed, “as if it’s true!”</p><p>    “Don’t start with me,” Tib warned, “your girl won’t want to hear how bad you used to be.”</p><p>    “Bad at what?” </p><p>    “We used to call her tuft-hunter,” Tib said conspiratorially. “Because, you know, she had trouble finding the -”</p><p>    “Tib!” </p><p>    Tib shrugged. Anne’s face burned. That was simply - it was patently untrue. She tossed her butt into the ashtray. </p><p>    “I think I’d better turn in,” Ann rubbed her back. “It’s so cold. Thank you, Tib and Frances, for a lovely night.”</p><p> Anne turned to follow her wife. </p><p>    “Going to warm her up in bed?” Tib winked at Anne. “Get in there, girl.”</p><p>    “Absolutely not. Good night, Isabella. Good night, Frances.”</p><p>    Padding to the guest room, Anne put her cold hands to her cheeks, willing this traitorous blush to dissipate. Tuft-hunter. As if she had any trouble finding - anything. On any woman’s body. No complaints from Tib, as she recalled. Certainly not those nights she’d cry and beg, those nights when Anne was more caught up in being pious for Mary than being kind to Tib. She shook her head, banishing those thoughts. She hadn’t always been fair to poor Tib, had she?</p><p>    “Are you regretting coming?” Ann teased. </p><p>    “Maybe a little,” Anne pulled her into her arms, “but then I remember how delicious you look in this dress.” She slipped her hands under the hem, palming Ann’s ass. “Then I think it might be worth it.”</p><p>    “Naughty Pony,” Ann teased with a tilt of her chin.</p><p>    Their lips met slowly and deeply, Ann’s tongue slipping into her mouth, her hands tugging at her hair. They stumbled clumsily to the bed, all groping hands and soft sighs and rolling hips. Anne sat back on her heels, straddling one of Ann’s thighs; she grinned as she hooked her fingers in the elastic of Ann’s stockings.</p><p>    “Perhaps Tib had the right idea,” she teased, tugging the stockings down, “maybe I do need to warm you up.”</p><p>    Ann chuckled and twisted her hips, sitting up and reaching for the zipper on her dress. With a shake of her head, Anne took her by the waist and flipped her onto her stomach. She eased the silver zipper down, revealing the broad expanse of Ann’s pale back, bisected by the purple lace of her bra. Anne pressed her lips to each knob of her spine, easing the dress from her shoulders, down her hips, and over her legs. </p><p>    “Pony,” Ann sighed as her panties fell away. “Please.”</p><p>    “Tib said I have no teeth.” Anne flicked open her bra. “Do you think that’s right?”</p><p>    “No,” Ann breathed. </p><p>    “Me neither,” Anne said thoughtfully, still trailing her lips across Ann’s shoulder blades. “I don’t think that’s fair at all.”</p><p>    “I was going to tell her - unh -” Anne nipped at the round curve of her behind, “that uh - that you’d just uh,” Anne’s long fingers traced through her folds, “left a mark - um, on - uh, on my hip.”</p><p>    “I’m glad you didn’t, baby,” Anne flipped her over, grinning at the faraway look already gracing her wife’s face. “She might’ve asked to see it.” She probed Ann’s entrance. “And I’m much too jealous for that.”</p><p>    “I know, Pony.” Ann lifted her hips into Anne’s touch; her middle finger slid into Ann’s perfect wetness. “I know.” She rolled her hips into Anne’s even thrusts. “I know.”</p><p>    Hardly a tuft-hunter now, Anne thought, circling her thumb over Ann’s clit. She certainly heard no complaints from Ann. Only soft sighs and grasping hands across her back, begging Anne to lean down and kiss her. Had Tib taught her how to angle her head just <i>so</i> to make Ann whine when she pulled away? No. Had Tib shown her how to put shift her weight to pay homage to Ann’s sharp collar bones with her tongue? Of course not. Had Tib taught her how to curl her fingers and flick her thumb and roll her hips? Well, sure, actually, but that was different. This was just her and Ann. She wasn’t that insecure upstart anymore. She was Anne Fucking Lister, damn it. </p><p>    “Pony.” Ann’s moan snapped her back into reality. “Harder.”</p><p>    With a grin, Anne sped up, slipping her index finger in as well. She relished this moment, the slow rise of the roller coaster, the build of that impossible release. The slick slap of their skin, the force of Ann’s hips pressing back against her hand, the gasping moans dripping from her perfectly pink lips. </p><p>    “Yes, Adney,” she whispered in her ear, grinding her hips against Ann’s thigh, “that’s it.” Ann clutched at her back desperately, her long neck stretching as far as it could. “Did it make you hot?” She nipped at Ann’s jugular. “Out there with Tib and Pic? Knowing that they wanted me?” Her thrusts were urgent now - hard and fast and deep. Her arm was aching, but it was worth it. So, so worth it. “That you were the one? The one who sleeps in my bed? The one who wears my ring? The one who gets me like<i>this</i>?” </p><p>Curling her fingers just so, Anne sent her wife into her climax. She pumped steadily, drawing every drop of pleasure from her, then slowly eased down, bringing Ann back to earth with tender kisses and soft strokes. Still got it, she thought smugly as Ann smiled that dopey, sated smile. </p><p>“Oh, Pony,” Ann sighed, tilting her chin. Anne kissed her softly as she pulled her hand from between her legs. “Yes, it does, actually.” She trailed one hand through Anne’s hair, along the strong line of her neck. “Make me hot. To be the only one you do that with.”<br/>
”Good.” Anne grinned and kissed her again.</p><p>    “Want to know what makes me even hotter?” Ann tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear.</p><p>    “What?” </p><p>    “Knowing I’m the only one,” Ann rolled them over, straddling her narrow hips, “who gets to see you like this.”</p><p>    “Is that right?” </p><p>    Anne sat up, helping her wife tug her jumper over her head. Ann kissed her again, slow and wet and sensual.</p><p>    “As good as you are at fucking me,” Ann tugged her tie loose, “I think it’s even better,” she pulled it free of Anne’s collar with a snap, “that I’m the only one who gets to fuck you.”</p><p>    What a line. What choice did Anne have? Obviously she had to crash their lips together and wrap her arms around Ann’s slick back and press their bodies so close she thought her ribs might break. What else was there to do? Nothing but hold on tight, pour every ounce of insecurity and regret and gratitude into this kiss. When Ann broke away to tug open her shirt, they were both panting.</p><p>    “So many buttons,” Ann hissed, her fingers fumbling. “Only t-shirts from now on, Pony.”</p><p>    “I don’t know, Mrs. Lister,” Anne shrugged out of the shirt, allowing Ann to tug off her bra as well. “You seem to enjoy dressing me up like a dandy.”</p><p>    “I do,” Ann giggled, “I really, really do.” She scooted down, between Anne’s legs, and wrenched open her trousers. “But we have to figure something out. It takes too bloody long.”</p><p>    Anne laughed as her tiny, impatient, totally naked wife scrambled to the foot of the bed and tugged off her trousers, then her socks, then dropped her head to kiss a path back up to her boxers. It was surprisingly erotic, Ann’s blonde head bobbing as she travelled up Anne’s calves, over her thighs, up to the sharp points of her hips. Anne twisted her hips in a less-than-subtle hint.</p><p>    “Come on,” she breathed, “you’re the one who’s in such a hurry.”</p><p>    “I guess I am.” Ann pulled her shorts down her legs, tossing them to the floor. “Can you blame me? Watching you with Tib all night?”</p><p>    She laid on her belly, hooking one of Anne’s legs over her shoulder.</p><p>    “What?” </p><p>    “She makes you squirm, Pony.” Soft lips pressed to the inside of her thigh; Anne jolted. “Yeah, kind of like that.”</p><p>    “Adney,” she moaned, “come on.”</p><p>    “Now who’s in a hurry?”</p><p>    It was all Anne could do to press her heel into Ann’s back, pulling her closer to where she needed her most. She groaned in relief as that wet mouth met her center, probed her entrance, teased her folds. Some nights, she was more and more interested in that delicious sensation of Ann’s tongue inside her. Tonight, however, she was impatient. Ann was right, as usual. She tugged at those blonde locks, lifting her hips and groaning in relief as Ann’s lips enfolded her clit. </p><p>    “Adney,” she breathed, gripping Ann’s head tighter. “Fuck, baby, yes.”</p><p>    Ann moaned softly as she worked, her lips vibrating against Anne’s core. Her hands steadied Anne’s hips, more with their presence than actual strength. Ann Walker had her in the palm of her hand, always. The tip of her tongue. Anne made a note to remember that - it was a good line - Ann would probably like it - but then she felt that perfect warmth shoot between her legs, into her spine, suffusing her entire body. Her hips bucked. Her fingers tightened. Her lips formed the most traitorously wanton moan.</p><p>    “Oh, Lord, Adney,” she sighed when she could breathe again, “Come here, come here, come here.”</p><p>    Ann’s glistening face reappeared, grinning as she crawled her way back up her body. Anne licked her lips, smiling lopsidedly as she took her wife’s face in her hands. Those perfect breasts brushed against her own. If they didn’t have such a busy day tomorrow, she would flip Ann right over and ravish her all night. As it was, she just brought their lips together, slow and tender, until Ann pulled away with a gentle smile.</p><p>“Get my pajamas, will you, Pony?” Ann rolled onto her back. </p><p>“Why do I have to?” She whined. “Let’s sleep like this.”</p><p>”What if Tib walks in? It’s weird to sleep naked in someone else’s house.” </p><p>“I think Tib is probably busy right now.”</p><p>”Pony!” Ann pushed her to the edge of the bed. “We need pajamas and the book and your glasses.”</p><p>“So demanding,” Anne chuckled, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed. </p><p>“You and Tib, how did that start?”</p><p>”What?” </p><p>Anne tossed her wife her nightshirt, pulling on her own sweats and a t-shirt. She sighed as Ann’s perfect body disappeared under the thin cotton. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to get into this with Ann, not out of a desire to hide, but more from her own embarrassment. Regret, perhaps. She hadn’t always been particularly kind in her treatment of old Tib, had she?</p><p>”What brought you two together? Like, if she’s not your type, then - then why?”</p><p>“Well, I was young. Eighteen or nineteen, maybe, I think, and, uh,” Anne slid under the covers, pulling her wife close to her chest, “I was really entranced by her, to be honest. I went straight from Eliza to her, and at the time, Tib was everything I wanted to be. Rich, good family, masculine and confident and out. Unapologetic. It took about a year before I realized my attraction to her was really - well, it was really about wanting to be her, rather than be with her.” </p><p>“That makes sense,” Ann said softly.</p><p>”And of course it’s about then that I met Mary and the whole twisted thing got started. Poor Tib, uh, I never really broke it off with her, you know? Like I should have.” Ann hummed quietly. “Right, so, I feel kind of guilty about it. Her drinking got worse, and I could never get the courage to just - you know, just be done with it?”</p><p>”Did she really,” Ann propped herself up a bit to meet Anne’s gaze, “teach you stuff?”</p><p>”Maybe a little,” Anne admitted; “Eliza and I - we were so young, you know? That was part of the appeal with Tib. She knew all these things I’d never heard of.”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>”Like - Ann!” She laughed. “You’re naughty.”</p><p>“I’m just <i>curious</i>, Pony. I just wonder.”</p><p>Anne bit her lip, considering. She tugged An a little closer, taking her chin between her thumb and forefinger. </p><p>“She taught me about g-spots. You know?”</p><p>“I do,” Ann breathed.</p><p>“Well, Tib made sure I knew too. That’s all I’m going to say.”</p><p>Ann looked at her in disbelief, then she laughed. They both did. Anne reached for her glasses. </p><p>“How about them shagging at dinner?” She said in disbelief. “Can you believe that?”</p><p>“I know!” Ann laughed. </p><p>“All over each other in that chair! Shameless.”</p><p>“Now hold on, Pony, we sit just like that.”</p><p>”No, we don’t!”</p><p>“Yes we do! All the time!”</p><p>Anne clicked her tongue. Thinking back now, she supposed that was why their position seemed so familiar. Well, that certainly put things in a different light.</p><p>“Whatever,” she said flippantly. “They’re way too handsy.”</p><p>“Tell me,” Ann purred, “did you ever sit in Tib’s lap? Or did she sit on yours?”</p><p>“Adney!”</p><p>“Just a question.” Ann grinned, holding her closer and slipping one leg between Anne’s. “You did, didn’t you? Sit on Tib’s knee.”</p><p>“Well! I mean - look. She’s six bloody feet tall, what could I do?”</p><p>“Oh, Pony,” Ann giggled. “I learn more about you every day.”</p><p>“Hush,” Anne teased, “we’re going to sleep.”</p><p>“I will dream sweet dreams, Pony, of you perched on Tib’s knee.”</p><p>“Miss Walker!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! </p><p>Of course, the classic “tuft-hunter” comes back - funny how Anne interpreted it differently in the past? And then these: “joking about whether my character was respectable, she hoped it was &amp; I joked as if she thought it was a good deal in her power. She said once or twice if she was not so calm, what would become of me” October 21, 1824 (with Maria Barlow) and “she wanted to joke about my warming A- in bed but I put off all talk of this kind” April 17, 1835 (thanks S.!!).</p><p>Soooo Tib is fun. I don’t know if she’s entirely true to life, because A. It’s been a while since I read the first Helena Whitbread and B. I think she would just be totally different in modernity. Especially if she stopped drinking. I think part of her hang-up on Anne is just not knowing any other lesbians - honestly, I think that for Anne and Mariana too. </p><p>Tib and Pic, is that nuts? Rather than her being 6 years older than Anne, I’m thinking they’re the same age In this world. So, yes, there’s an age gap, but truly not so much More than Anne and Ann. And - well, I think I said what I wanted to say in the chapter. So.</p><p>What do we think? A good start? Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Recombobulation Station</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Mmmm, Pony,” she hummed, turning sleepily onto her back as her wife’s firm lips trailed across her neck. “What time is it?”</p><p>“Forty-eight minutes past seven,” was the ridiculously exact answer. </p><p>Normally, Ann might’ve teased her about this, but her wife had, in the same moment, slid one warm hand under her nightshirt and over her breast. Instead, Ann could only sigh in contentment, not even minding to be awake this early if it meant her wife was feeling amorous. She didn’t even open her eyes, just hummed and licked her lips and twisted her hips as Anne continued to pay homage to her neck and breasts. </p><p>“Today, Miss Walker,” she heard Anne flick the sheets up, then felt her settle between her legs, below the covers, her lips pressed to Ann’s belly and the tops of her thighs, “we’re going to Paris.”</p><p>The thought alone was enough to make Ann grin, but that <i>plus</i> her wife’s gentle ministrations between her legs? Perhaps she’d never been happier. She managed to slide her eyes open, slipping one hand under the sheets to tangle in her wife’s hair. It wasn’t urgent, this movement; she just enjoyed stroking the back of Anne’s head, scratching gently at her scalp, twisting her fingers in her dark, silky hair. Propping her other arm under her head, Ann smiled happily as the blob under the covers that was her wife continued to move slowly and gently over her core. </p><p>And then there was a knock. A short, crisp rap on the door.</p><p>Less than a second for either of them to realize what was happening.</p><p>And Tib’s grinning face appeared.</p><p>Ann pushed her wife’s head away, clutching at the sheets with her other hand. She was covered, yes, but she certainly <i>felt</i> exposed. Tib retracted to the hallway, her thick, veiny hand still on the door knob. </p><p>“And good morning to you!” Tib laughed heartily. </p><p>Anne flopped onto the pillow next to her, wiping her face hurriedly.</p><p>“Get out!” She called. “Tib, damn it, why can’t you -”</p><p>“It’s not even 8 o’clock in the morning, Lister! How was I supposed to know you two start so early?”</p><p>Ann’s face burned so much she thought it might catch fire; she covered it with her clammy hands. Anne’s warm hand squeezed her thigh reassuringly. </p><p>“Are you coming in to bother us, or are you leaving us alone?”</p><p>“I was wondering about breakfast, jackass.” Ann felt the end of the bed depress; she moved one hand aside to see their host, a black robe tied around her waist, a white t-shirt peeking out. Her slicked-back pompadour now fell limply to one side, making her seem softer somehow, gentler. Ann removed both her hands and smiled shyly at her. “There she is. My apologies for interrupting what I’m sure was a very nice way to wake up.” Ann bit her lip, torn between laughing and melting into a puddle of embarrassment. Tib patted her foot over the blankets. “So, eggs? Bacon? What’s the deal?”</p><p>“Anything is fine, Tib,” Anne said, exasperated. “Did you need to come in here to ask that?”</p><p>”I’m trying to be a good host, Lister. Frankie wanted me to ask. She’s doing the cooking.”</p><p>“Oh good,” Anne drawled, “at least now I know we won’t be poisoned.”</p><p>“Exactly.” Tib grinned. “I guess I’ll leave you to it.” She stood, then stopped at the doorway. “Unless, you know, you need a little help-”</p><p>Anne threw a pillow at her. Laughing, Tib closed the door on her way out. </p><p>“Pony!” Ann whined. “How am I going to eat breakfast with her? Or ever look at her again?”</p><p>“Don’t even think about it,” Anne soothed, turning onto her side and stroking her fingertips across Ann’s face. “I am sorry, though, I should’ve barricaded the door.”</p><p>Ann laughed, shaking her head and unable to stay angry with her wife. Especially not today. Anne kissed her softly, and they got up for the day. Ann tried to focus on her excitement for this adventure, rather than her nerves; she pulled on her comfiest leggings and Anne’s uni sweatshirt. Even though her wife would be right beside her the entire time, Ann still felt better being wrapped up in her like this; Anne had worn the sweatshirt to work on the estate last week, and it still smelled faintly of her sweat, Shibden’s grounds, and the strong tea she loved. Anne wrapped her in her arms, kissed her softly, then smiled down at her. </p><p>“Ready, Mrs. Lister?” </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Padding into the kitchen, their bags trailing behind them, they found Tib wrapped around Frances, nuzzled into her neck, while the younger woman laughed and swatted at her. Anne cleared her throat, but Tib only grinned. </p><p>“That was fast,” she purred.</p><p>“Shut up,” Anne said flatly, plopping onto one of the barstools around Tib’s kitchen island. She reached for Ann, putting an arm loosely around her waist. She’d been doing this more, Ann had noticed, as if she were trying to prove something to Tib. Or to Frances. Or to herself. “Thank you, Pic, for cooking.”</p><p>“Not a problem,” the younger woman said brightly. “We’re all better off if Tib doesn’t get anywhere near a stove.”</p><p>“Can we help?” Ann asked. </p><p>“Definitely not,” Frances answered. “How do you take your eggs?”</p><p>Breakfast with Tib and Frances turned out to be exceedingly pleasant. They were a nice couple, Ann thought, and they certainly seemed to adore each other. Sure, it was still early, but she and Anne had gotten engaged in less than two weeks. The way Frances looked at Tib? No doubt she was head-over-heels. And Tib, for all her bravado, seemed sweet and soft with Frances. Besides, Ann was pretty sure she could see a hickey on Pic’s thigh, just where her pajama shorts ended, though she tried not to stare. If nothing else, they were certainly having a good time. </p><p>“Don’t be nervous,” Anne whispered in her ear as Tib drove them to the airport. “Well, you can be, but I’m right here. We’ll be fine.”</p><p>Ann could only squeeze her hand in answer. Frances was in the passenger seat, chatting happily, and they were pressed together in the back. Ann preferred it that way, with the warmth of her wife’s body by her side. She wanted so desperately to be brave and sophisticated and jet-setting, but the anxious coils were already tightening in her gut.</p><p> Anne checked in with her silently - a quirk of the eyebrows (“everything okay?”), a squeeze of the hand (“tell me if you want to go back”), a playful wink (“I can’t wait to ravish you in Paris”). At least, that was how Ann interpreted it. Either way, she felt safe with Anne with her. Even as her stomach did somersaults. </p><p>It only got worse when Tib’s SUV pulled away, and they were left with their luggage on the curb. Anne couldn’t hold her hand, because she was loaded down with bags. In that moment, Ann would’ve gladly given up everything she owned to have Anne’s strong hand in hers. She hadn’t flown in years. Had never left the country. As they approached the baggage claim, Ann wondered if she’d throw up.</p><p>Anne handled everything, of course, and Ann felt a surge of love for her. She never could’ve done this on her own. Never would’ve even tried. But here? In this world where Anne Lister loved her? She could just watch Anne speak to the young woman, hand over their bags and her credit card, then take a series of papers and her enormous backpack. </p><p>“Ready?”</p><p>“What if I said no?” Ann asked quietly.</p><p>“We can leave. What are you thinking about?” Anne pulled her away, toward the security check. </p><p>“Do we have everything we need?”</p><p>“For a two-hour flight?” Anne smiled, but then seemed to catch herself. “You have me,” she said gently, “and I have you. We have our wallets, some magazines, my glasses, your meds, all our electronics and chargers, a few books.”</p><p>“Okay,” Ann nodded. </p><p>“Okay?”  Anne squeezed her hand.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Good,” Anne grinned, “we’re going to have the best time.”</p><p>The security check was worse than she remembered, with the crush of people and the shoe-removing and the sour-faced officials. Anne’s warm hand in hers was the only thing grounding her to reality. What if they got separated? What if Anne had somehow forgotten she had a very large knife in that backpack? Would they be detained? How upset would Anne be if they just went home right now?</p><p>“Do you want to go first?” Anne asked. “Or shall I?”</p><p>“You go.” </p><p>“I’ll be waiting right on the other side,” Anne whispered in her ear.</p><p>Watching her wife go through the scanner, Ann felt another surge of appreciation. She was so confident, wasn’t she? Strong and self-assured, in her slouchy hoodie and jeans, her pink socks tapping on the germy airport floor. Her bright grin was the only thing keeping Ann sane as she followed her, standing in the scanner with her heart pounding in her ears; she raced to that grin, exhaling in relief as they gathered their phones and shoes and bag. Anne led her to a little bench just past security and sat her down. </p><p>“I was in an airport once,” Anne said, lacing up her boots, “that called this the ‘recombobulation station.’ You know?” Anne laughed. “Like being discombobulated?”</p><p>“Right,” Ann breathed, her fingers fumbling over the laces of her trainers. </p><p>“Come here,” Anne offered easily, kneeling in front of her and patting her leg. Ann propped her foot on Anne’s thigh, feeling foolish as Anne laced it for her. “And now, my love, you get to pick what disgusting airport food we eat.” </p><p>“What?”</p><p>Anne released her foot, then patted her leg for the other one. Ann complied. </p><p>“Do you want sweets? A coffee? An actual meal?”</p><p>“Not an actual meal, I think,” Ann stood shakily, taking Anne’s hand. “Can we just get snacks? And something to drink?”</p><p>“Of course.” Anne kissed the top of her head. </p><p>Laden with candy and crisps and coffees and waters, they found their gate and settled in. They only had about half an hour before they could board, and Ann spent most of that time gorging and jiggling her leg. Anne did her best to distract her, talking animatedly and joking about the people drifting past. It was sweet, even if it didn’t work. By the time their group was called, Ann felt sick, but she wasn’t sure if that was the snacks or the nerves. Anne squeezed her hand, lifting the backpack onto her shoulder. </p><p>“Here we go,” Anne whispered excitedly, passing off their boarding passes. “It’s going to be amazing.”</p><p>Anne had splurged on first-class, insisting Ann deserved nothing less, and the seats were surprisingly comfortable. Anne by her side, the friendly flight attendant offering her drinks, the wide aisle open next to her - Ann really shouldn’t have been nervous at all. </p><p>And yet.</p><p>Of course, she was, she thought bitterly, she was Ann Walker. She would always be nervous. Couldn’t even enjoy a romantic trip to Paris without having a breakdown. Would probably fracture her wife’s strong, gorgeous hand with how tightly she was gripping it. Anne probably wished she were still with Mariana or Tib or anybody else, so long as they weren’t such a scaredy-cat. </p><p>“It’s fine, darling,” Anne said quietly as the flight attendant went through the safety demonstration. </p><p>Ann could barely listen to her; she was paying close attention to the emergency exits, the flotation device under her seat, the workings of the oxygen masks. She loved Anne, but she would certainly put her own mask on her face before helping her wife. Anne’s strong hand wrapped around her wrist. </p><p>“Hey, Adney.” Ann turned to her. “It’s fine. It’s a very short flight. They do this a million times a day. We’re safe.”</p><p>Then the plane lurched forward. Ann whined in distress. </p><p>“Look at me. Darling, come on. Look at me.”</p><p>Ann forced herself to look into her wife’s dark eyes. </p><p>“The scariest part is take-off. It’s totally normal to be worried. We’re fine. You’re going to be fine. Just listen to me.” Ann could feel the plane moving impossibly faster, defying the laws of physics, hurtling them toward their doom. “We’re going to land in Paris about four o’clock. Then we’ll get our bags, and we’ll get a cab to our place. I got us an Air BnB in Le Marais, and it’s tiny and funky and has this loft. The whole place looks like it’s about a meter wide.” Anne’s laugh eased her racing heart just a bit. “But it has a kitchen and a little TV and two chairs at the bottom of the stairs. And these stairs, oh Adney, they’re so cool. No railing, kind of floating. We’ll have to be really careful. Maybe I’ll carry you.” Her soft purr and smirk made Ann feel like she, herself, was floating. “And then there’s a nice big bed. We can walk to the Louvre. Tons of little cafes and nightclubs and all the museums you could want. It’s going to be amazing, darling.”</p><p>When Anne fell silent, Ann realized they were in the air. She’d missed take-off entirely. They were in the air. She felt remarkably safe. Anne, seeming to notice her thought process, grinned. </p><p>“Feel better?”</p><p>“You’re so good to me, Pony,” Ann sighed. “Thank you.”</p><p>“We’re going to have a magnificent time, Mrs. Lister.” Anne settled back in her seat, pulling out her glasses and book. “I can’t wait.”</p><p>About an hour later, Ann found she couldn’t wait either. Anne was reading, leaning against the window, a blanket stretched across their laps. Ann had been flipping through a magazine and fiddling with her iPad. At first, it had been enough to marvel at the flight, at her own calm, at the snacks and drinks they were offered. Then Anne had set her hand casually on Ann’s thigh under the blanket. It was comforting. At first. Then it was a little annoying. Anne knew full-well she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything, what with the circles she was tracing over Ann’s thigh. Then it was maddening. Plain and simple. Ann shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Was she actually wet, just from this?</p><p>“Pony,” she hissed. “Stop.”</p><p>Anne’s hand retracted. She didn’t even look up from her book. Ann missed her immediately and whimpered softly at the loss. Still reading, Anne grinned.</p><p>“Pony,” she whined.</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“You know.”</p><p>“What do I know?”</p><p>The circles started again, this time higher on her thigh. </p><p>“You know exactly what you’re doing.”</p><p>“Reading my book,” Anne said innocently. “Sitting in my seat. Touching my wife.”</p><p>“Making me crazy.”</p><p>“Crazy?” Anne purred, flipping her book closed. </p><p>“We have, like, an hour left!” Ann stomped her feet lightly. “What am I going to do?”</p><p>“Go to the bathroom,” Anne whispered, leaning closer. </p><p>“I can’t - do that - in an airplane bathroom!”</p><p>“Why not?” </p><p>“I can barely do it in a bed!” </p><p>“What?” Anne chuckled.</p><p>“By myself,” Ann whispered urgently.</p><p>“Ah, but, Adney,” Anne’s hand slid higher, “why would you be by yourself?”</p><p>Oh. Ann could only exhale, lost in Anne’s dark, mischievous eyes and the possibility stretching before them.</p><p>“Go on,” Anne dared. “I’ll be right behind you.”</p><p>“Are you serious?” </p><p>“Try not to start without me.”</p><p>On shaky legs, Ann stumbled to the tiny, cramped lavatory, which, blessedly, was unoccupied. She hurried inside, breathing heavily and unable to believe this was her life. Was she seriously - actually - going to shag <i>Anne Lister</i> in an airplane bathroom? On their way to Paris? Where <i>Anne Lister</i> would share her bed, show her the sights, and shag her senseless? And this was her life? Ann Walker? She stared at her flushed face in the mirror, unable to tell if her hands were shaking from nerves or arousal.</p><p>The door slid open sharply, and Anne swooped her way inside. Her grin was so wide Ann wondered how there was room for the rest of her in this small space. With the door closed, Anne’s firm body pressed her into the tiny, plastic-y sink. She kissed her hungrily, shoving a thigh between Ann’s and running her hands up and down Ann’s sides. The vibration of the plane felt more powerful here, and Ann groaned softly as she felt the sink dig into her back. </p><p>“Ann Walker,” Anne growled, low in her throat, as she dipped a hand into Ann’s leggings, “how does it feel?” Her long fingers traced through Ann’s folds. “To get fucked on a plane?”</p><p>Ann could only whimper in response, lifting her hips urgently and digging her hands into her wife’s shoulders. They’d never been closer, Ann thought. Even with the clothes between them, there was no way their bodies had ever pressed closer together than they were in this moment. Anne’s slender fingers thrust sharply into her, forcing Ann to bury her face in her hoodie, biting down on the soft fabric to keep from crying out. </p><p>“Going to have to be a bit rough, baby, hard and fast,” Anne breathed in her ear. “Okay?”</p><p>Ann managed to nod, and then her wife took off. Her strong arm wrapped around Ann’s back, holding her steady as she filled her over and over. It was so hot in there - so humid and slick and - fuck, had Anne’s fingers gotten longer? She longed to cry out - anything to release even a portion of what she was feeling - but she couldn’t. Her desire was too large for her body, too large for the lavatory, too large for the whole bloody plane. </p><p>“Pony,” she whined, her legs trembling with the force of her release.</p><p>Anne paused for a millisecond, her eyes gleaming with mischief and that same, damned grin on her face, and then her lips were crashing into Ann’s, swallowing her choked moans as she hurtled closer and closer to the edge. The hand on her back was perfectly still, a warm and comforting weight supporting her. The hand between her legs? Feral. Rough, hard, and fast, just as Anne had promised. Delicious. Hot. Perfect. </p><p>With a jerk of the hips, Ann stretched taut, gasping as her climax washed over her. She forgot about her worries, about the passengers outside, about the walk of shame back to her seat. All she could focus on was the sublime feeling overwhelming her body, the reassuringly gentle movements of her wife, and the intense heat burning across her skin. When she finally slumped forward, Anne caught her, chuckling softly and rubbing her back. With a sweaty hand, she caressed Anne’s cheek, tilting her head gently. To share a tender kiss like <i>this</i>? In the toilet of an airplane, somewhere over France? Ann almost laughed at the incredible dream that was her life. </p><p>“Go on,” Anne whispered when they broke apart.</p><p>“What about you?” Ann put her hand on the button of Anne’s jeans.</p><p>“No time, my love.” Ann made a small sound of protest, and Anne kissed her again. “This is not about old habits or the things I used to do. This is about being crammed in an airplane lavatory and not wanting to take too long. Now, go.”</p><p>“I have to go first?” </p><p>“I think I’d better,” Anne lifted an eyebrow rakishly, “wash my hands.”</p><p>Biting her lip, Ann took a handful of Anne’s hoodie and inhaled. Had anyone treated a partner better than Anne treated her? She straightened her clothes and exhaled. Then she stepped back out into the cabin. Not a single passenger gave her even a cursory glance as she sat back down, this time in Anne’s window seat, but she felt certain her face had never been redder. When Anne slid in beside her a few minutes later, she buried her burning face in her shoulder. Anne laughed and rubbed her shoulder.</p><p>“Welcome, my darling.”</p><p>“What?” Ann lifted her head in confusion.</p><p>“To the mile-high club,” Anne purred. </p><p>Laughing, Ann pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and leaned into her wife, already flicking through her book again. She always got so sleepy afterwards. Anne kissed the top of her head. </p><p>“They say you can’t fall asleep in your dreams,” she said quietly.</p><p>“What?” Her wife asked; Ann could tell she was only half-listening.</p><p>“They say you can’t sleep in your dreams, so I wonder, Pony,” she squeezed her knee, “if I’ll be able to fall asleep right now.”</p><p>A pause. Ann could only see Anne’s long fingers tap against the (now closed) book. She felt Anne lean her head against her own, the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. </p><p>“Me too, Adney. I feel like I’m in a dream right now, too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>I feel like this chapter might suck? I don’t know. It’s shorter than the one’s I’ve been posting lately, but it covers everything I wanted it to cover. I didn’t want to jam their arrival at their Air BnB in with everything else. I hope you weren’t disappointed with the length. </p><p>Also, I’ve never been to Paris, so please bear with me on these next few chapters. I’m definitely doing my research (and getting major wanderlust), but I am, after all, a dumb American. Have mercy. </p><p>Anyway! Hope you enjoyed! I’m really excited about their time in Paris!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. That Husbandly Thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If it helps, here is the Air BnB I’m using as reference. I may make a few changes, but this is  the basis. <a href="https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/8313266?location=Le%20Marais%2C%20Paris%2C%20France&amp;adults=2&amp;source_impression_id=p3_1593443787_Nqq0mrRvk2QzPCUl&amp;guests=1">Air BnB</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The apartment was everything Anne had hoped for. It looked just like the pictures from the website, if not bigger. They’d carted their luggage into the elevator, to the third floor, and here they were! Immediately on entering, the place smelled amazing. Bathroom to the left from the front door. Narrow kitchen dead ahead, ending with those two armchairs and a tall window overlooking the street below. Dropping the bags from her shoulders, she couldn’t resist striding down to that window, inhaling the excitement of Paris just outside. She turned around, taking in the dark, floating stairs leading to the loft above. And there, at the base of the stairs? Ann Walker, looking nervous and impish and lovely. They’d have five days here. Incredible. Anne couldn’t stop smiling.</p><p>“What do you think?” She spread her arms wide. </p><p>“It’s lovely, Pony.” Ann smiled, crossing the room to snuggle into Anne’s chest. “I’m so happy to be here.”</p><p>“Me too.” Anne rubbed her back. “Oh, we’re going to have the best time.”</p><p>For a moment, they just held each other, the whole world stretching before them. How long had it been, Anne wondered, since she’d been in Paris? Two years? Could be three. Too long. This time, she wouldn’t be making her way, changing her schedule to suit Aunt Anne, or hiding out from Charles. No, this time she was with her wife. There was so much to do. </p><p>“I’m hungry,” Ann whined. </p><p>“Let’s go,” Anne grinned. “There’s a place just down the street. A little back garden patio. You’ll love it.” </p><p>“I think I want to shower.”</p><p>“Okay!” Anne clapped her hands together. “Great. You shower. I will unpack us a little. I hate to live out of a suitcase, don't you?” She moved one of the chairs just a hair closer to the window. Much better. “I think your toiletries are in the blue one.”<br/>
Ann didn’t move. </p><p>“Darling?” Anne asked.</p><p>She started laughing. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You’re so excited!” Ann shook her head, grinning. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this excited before.”</p><p>“I love travelling,” Anne said, furrowing her brow. “You know that.”</p><p>“It’s very cute, Pony.” Ann stooped to root through her suitcase.</p><p>“Cute,” Anne clicked her tongue. “I just like Paris.”</p><p>“And it’s very cute.” </p><p>Ann kissed her cheek before disappearing into the bathroom. Navigating their suitcases up to the loft was no easy feat, but Anne managed. The bed was situated so that the head was against the wall on the right-hand side as one ascended the stairs; there were a series of built-in drawers just behind it. Anne stowed their clothes neatly, using the rack above for Ann’s dresses. Good Lord, how many had she brought? The top of the drawers made a perfect surface for their books, chargers, that favorite black box. There was a sex shop around here, wasn’t there? Anne made a note to walk Ann past it tomorrow. Just to see if her innocent little wife would be interested. Bringing their bags back down and stowing them under the staircase, Anne caught a whiff of herself. Perhaps she’d better shower as well.</p><p>“All yours, Pony.” </p><p>Ann emerged, wrapped in a skimpy blue towel, her hair swaddled in another. </p><p>Perhaps the shower could wait. </p><p>She wrapped her damp wife in her arms, bringing their lips together fiercely. Something about being in Paris - she’d never felt so aroused. That, plus shagging Ann in the airplane toilet? She was suddenly mad with want. She backed Ann toward the kitchen counter, tugging at her own jeans.</p><p>“Pony,” Ann whined, “I just got clean.”</p><p>“But Miss Walker,” she ghosted her lips over Ann’s, “I’m so dirty.”</p><p>“You, Pony,” Ann flipped them, pressing Anne back against the counter and reaching into her pants, “should’ve let me get you off on the plane.”</p><p>“Get me off?” Anne teased, “what are you - oh,” Ann’s fingers found her clit, “oh, fuck, Adney.”</p><p>“Not so funny now, is it?” Ann breathed in her ear, kissing her neck and starting slow, firm circles. “On the way back, Pony, it’s your turn.”</p><p>“Yes, yes,” Anne panted, though she wasn’t sure if that was in reference to Ann’s demands or to the intoxicating rhythm of her fingers. “Ann, please.”</p><p>“I’m right here, Pony.” Ann sucked gently on her neck. “Right here.” She pressed harder. “In Paris.” Electricity shot through Anne’s body. “Fucking you.” </p><p>With a gasp, Anne slumped forward, shuddering, relieved to finally surrender to her release. She hadn’t realized just how pent-up she’d been. How badly she needed Ann. How anxious she’d been to get here, safely, Ann in tow. It almost hadn’t seemed possible, and now? Here she was. In Paris. In a tiny apartment. In Ann’s arms. She kissed her sloppily, then straightened. </p><p>“Right,” she sighed, “good heavens.”</p><p>An hour later, they found themselves strolling down the street, to that little bistro with the back patio. Anne wanted to start with this place, partly because the food was exceptional, and partly because the staff mostly spoke English. This fact didn’t stop her, however, from letting her sweet little wife stumble through her order in French so broken it may have been Italian.</p><p>“And I’ll have the same,” Anne said with a grin, drawing a polite nod from their server and sputtered outrage from the gorgeous blonde across the table. “Someday I’ll teach you French, Adney.”</p><p>“You could’ve told me I could speak English!”</p><p>“I guess I could have, but then I would’ve missed your cute little accent.”</p><p>“I’m so sick of you.” </p><p>Ann crossed her arms, pouting playfully, but her wife could only laugh. It was exceedingly pleasant, out here on the patio, despite it being December. Another reason she’d chosen this place: they managed to heat this back garden so that it felt more like fall than winter on a mild night like tonight. It would get colder in the next few days, but, for now, Anne felt like she was in paradise. </p><p>“What do you want to do tonight?” She asked when their food arrived.</p><p>“Will you be terribly disappointed if I say ‘go home?’”</p><p>Anne paused, her gut twisting. Surely Ann didn’t mean - already? She’d done so well. Was she upset? The apartment - was it too small? What had Anne missed?</p><p>“Not to Shibden!” Ann said quickly. “No, no, I meant the apartment. I’m a bit tired.”</p><p>“Oh! Oh, yes, of course.” Anne exhaled. “Yes, darling, absolutely.”</p><p>“And tomorrow? I guess you’ll be marching me across the city.”</p><p>“Without a doubt,” Anne grinned, launching into her plans for the week - where they’d go and what they’d eat and what had changed since she’d been here last. By the time the check arrived, she was brimming with excitement. </p><p>“Pony, no,” Ann said, reaching for it.</p><p>“I think not.” Anne pulled out her own wallet. “This is my gift to you.”</p><p>“You can’t gift me a week in Paris; that’s insane.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“It’s - Pony, it’s too much. It’s too expensive.”</p><p>“You’re worth it,” Anne said playfully, winking as the server took her card.</p><p>“Seriously, Anne. I’m not letting you pay for everything all week.”</p><p>Anne fiddled with her glass. They never much talked about money, and she found herself rather embarrassed. It was no secret Ann’s pockets were much deeper than her own, but it made her feel uncomfortable - insufficient - to be in her shadow. There were times, sure, that Ann displaying her wealth was incredibly arousing. Other times, however, Anne just wanted to treat her wife. To do that husbandly thing.</p><p>“Anne,” her wife said softly, “we should talk about it.”</p><p>“Right.” Anne looked down at the returned bill, signing quickly and shaking her head. “Let’s walk around a bit. And talk.”</p><p>The evening was crisp. Ann’s hand fit perfectly in hers. The streets were pleasantly full, not too many people but not too few. It was a perfectly lovely night. She was in Paris with the woman she loved. She shouldn’t have felt so antsy.</p><p>“Money doesn’t mean anything to me,” Ann started. “It’s very easy for me to forget about it.”</p><p>“It’s not like that for me,” Anne said stiffly.</p><p>“I - of course, Anne, I - damn, I’m saying this wrong. You should let me pay. It doesn't even matter to me.”</p><p>“It matters to me.”</p><p>Anne was infinitely grateful that they were walking, that she could say this to the air in front of her, rather than look Ann in the eyes. It was demeaning, wasn’t it? Not to be able to buy her wife everything she wanted. But with the estate and the family and - well, the Listers had never been wealthy. Not in the way that the Walkers were.</p><p>“Of course it does, but - like, I don’t want you to worry about it. Just let me pay.”</p><p>“Damn it, Ann, no!” Anne stopped, shaking her head at the man who turned to look at her outburst. “Do you see how humiliating that is? That I can’t even provide for you? That you won’t let me?”</p><p>“It’s not - Pony, listen -”</p><p>“No, no, you listen. I - do you know Shibden was bankrupt when my uncle died? It’s the truth. We almost lost everything. The estate didn’t run at a profit, and no one seemed to care. I have worked very,” she caught herself, her voice cracking; she continued, a little more softly, “very hard to build up what we have. And now we run at a profit, and it’s very comfortable. That, and my professor salary and the book sales and talks and things like that - it - I know I don’t have money like you do. I want so badly to - you know, to be that person for you.”</p><p>“Come here.” Ann tugged her into a crowded bakery. They joined the queue, face-to-face in a sea of strangers jostling for dessert. “You have worked so hard. I don’t want you to waste your money on me, when it’s so easy for me to-”</p><p>“It’s not a waste!” Anne hissed urgently, searching her wife’s face. Why wasn’t she understanding? “I want to spend money on you. That’s the whole point of having money in the first place.”</p><p>The line moved forward. Ann was chewing on her bottom lip. Anne decided to go for it.</p><p>“The biggest fights Mariana and I had were over money. She needed Charles to set his will up so that she’d be provided for no matter what. Even if they got divorced. She didn’t trust me to - do you see? I never had enough - I couldn’t provide for her. It’s, um,” Anne stared at the floor; in the back of her mind, she knew it was important to say this to Ann’s face. She forced herself to look in those deep blue eyes. “It’s important to me to pay for things. Symbolically. It’s what a husband does.”</p><p>The line moved forward again. Ann was smiling - what the hell was she smiling for?</p><p>“Maybe it is, Pony, but you’re not my husband. You’re my wife.” Anne hadn’t even realized she’d said that word, the one she used in her youth, the one she’d used with Mary. “You don't have to provide for me, but you actually do, even if you don’t realize it. You’ve already given me a home and a family and this wonderful trip. Let me buy dinner once in a while, you big lug.”</p><p>“What?” Anne laughed.</p><p>“There it is.” Ann took a handful of her coat and tugged at it. “You looked so bloody serious. I missed your smile.”</p><p>“I was bloody serious,” Anne chuckled. “I am.”</p><p>“I know, darling. I am, too. We can talk about it more seriously, but will you at least let me buy my <i>wife</i> a slice of cake?”</p><p>“Of course.” Anne kissed the top of her head. </p><p>As they moved closer and closer to the counter, Anne felt more and more relieved. Her hackles lowered. She was actually able to inhale and enjoy the sweet smells surrounding them. She even felt a tingle as Ann’s hand reached into her pocket. </p><p>“Adney,” she purred, “not here.”</p><p>“I’m getting my wallet, you pig,” Ann teased. “Good Lord.”</p><p>“Let’s take it home, hmm? Two slices of cake? Whipped cream?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Anne ordered, and Ann paid. They took their three boxes - the young man behind the counter had scowled at Anne’s asking for whipped cream, as if it were a personal affront, a travesty, some kind of crime to put anything extra on the pastries they’d bought. Fool, Anne thought as they squeezed their way out the shop, as if there were only one use for whipped cream.</p><p>“We should get a pre-nup,” Anne said as they linked arms, the paper bag holding their dessert in her free hand, “like Elizabeth said.”</p><p>“You’re probably right.”</p><p>“We could have a joint credit card, but our separate accounts. Use it for things we buy together, and then, you know, pay off our halves.”</p><p>“I’d like to start helping with some estate costs.”</p><p>“No, Adney, that’s -”</p><p>“If Cordingley is going to cook my meals and Hemingway is going to change our filthy sheets, covered in my -”</p><p>“Okay, okay,” Anne chuckled. “We can talk about that.”</p><p>“When we get back, we should set up those meetings. Our lawyers, you know.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Accountants.”</p><p>“I don’t have an accountant,” Anne said with more than a hint of pride.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Washington does some of the payroll, but I like to balance the books myself.”</p><p>“Do you really?” Ann looked up at her, such a look of wonder on her face that Anne could only shrug and squeeze her closer as they reached their building. “You’re, like, the smartest person I know.”</p><p>“Like?” Anne teased, leading her wife into the elevator. She backed her wife into the corner. “Who’s smarter? Who is she?”</p><p>“<i>The</i> smartest, Pony,” Ann laughed, wrapping her hands in Anne’s lapels and pulling her close. </p><p>Anne kissed her soundly, one hand on her hip. Elevators, she thought, was there anything better? The lift jostled as they reached their floor. Still kissing her, Ann pushed her backward, stumbling and fumbling until Anne’s back hit the door. Laughing, Anne turned in her arms, scrambling to get the key in the lock. Her wife’s warm body pressed into her back, hands groping under her coat, lips trailing against her neck, hips grinding into her ass. </p><p>The door lurched forward, and they stumbled inside. Ann closed and leaned back against it, slipping her jacket to the floor and raising her eyebrows. Heavenly. Anne shucked her own coat, dropping their desserts on the counter and grinning widely. Oh, they were going to defile this place. </p><p>“Pony!” Ann laughed as Anne tossed her over her shoulder, spanking her lightly and striding toward the stairs. “Be careful!”</p><p>“You be careful,” Anne teased, spanking her again and climbing those treacherous stairs. “You should know by now, Adney,” she dropped her onto the bed, “that there’s nowhere safer for you,” she fell to her knees over Ann, running her hands up and down her bent legs, “than in my arms.”</p><p>“Sap,” Ann teased, wrapping her hands in the front of Anne’s shirt and pulling her down. </p><p>Their lips met languidly, all slow and romantic and deep. Anne slipped her hands up under Ann’s jumper. Ann shivered, breaking away.</p><p>“Your hands are cold, Pony,” she giggled.</p><p>“I guess,” Anne squeezed her hips, making her wife squirm, “you’ll have to help me warm them up.”</p><p>“Come here,” Ann giggled again, taking Anne’s hands in her own and rubbing them quickly. “I’m so glad to be here. With you.”</p><p>“Me too.” Anne kissed the back of her wife’s hand. “I’m so excited and happy and - oh, I don’t even know what to do.”</p><p>“You can kiss me,” Ann teased, “to start.”</p><p>“Anything you say,” Anne leaned forward, hovering just over her lips, “Mrs. Lister.”</p><p>Their kiss was more urgent this time, Ann’s leg hooking over her hip and caressing her side. She ran her now-warm hands along her wife’s soft belly, up to the soft lace of her bra. Ann tugged at her shoulders, bucking her hips up into Anne’s and breaking away, panting and smiling softly. </p><p>“Come on, Pony.” She sat up, pulling her jumper over her head, licking her lips as Anne’s eyes fell to her heaving breasts. “You’re so predictable.”</p><p>“I am not,” she purred, pushing Ann onto her back and starting her slow and purposeful worship of her chest. </p><p>“You are,” Ann breathed. “You can’t - um, can’t - resist.”</p><p>“No,” Anne grinned against her skin, reaching under her to unclasp her bra. “I can’t. I never could.”</p><p>The beginning of a joke escaped Ann’s lips, but it quickly morphed into a gasp when Anne took her breast in her mouth. There was something supremely special about this moment - special and erotic and delicious. Ann adored it, that was for certain, and the filthy sounds spilling from her mouth were almost as arousing as the actual feel of her body between Anne’s lips, on her tongue, in her hands. Sitting back on her heels, Anne surveyed the damage so far. Ann was twisting her hips, biting her lip, arching her back into Anne’s hands. She tweaked her nipples gently; Ann moaned. Again, a bit harder. Another moan.  A press of the hips. Anne descended again, taking her breast between her lips once more, losing herself in her wife’s body. Later, there would be time to get that whipped cream. Start something truly delicious. </p><p>For now, however, she worked her way lower, pressing her lips against Ann’s slick rib cage, her soft belly, all along the waistband of her jeans. Flicking them open, Anne looked up at the flushed face of her wife. Ann lifted her hips obligingly, allowing her jeans to slide down her legs. </p><p>“Oh, Adney,” she breathed, “you’re perfect.”</p><p>Ann whined softly, twisting her hips as Anne pressed her lips to her calf, dragging her tongue up to her knee. She bit down gently on her creamy thigh, then started at the ankle of the other leg. </p><p>“Pony.”</p><p>“Yes?” She purred, kissing her way up the inside of her thigh. </p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>“I know,” Anne breathed against her core. It had been a little while since Ann said these words in the lead-up. More often, she was impatient and demanding and whiny. All those months ago, that fateful day on the sofa at Crow Nest - she’d done the same thing. Whispered those words just as Anne touched her for the first time. How far they’d come, Anne thought, spreading her legs and pressing her lips to her stomach once more. “I love you too.”</p><p>“But, Pony, you - unh, I -” Anne grinned, momentarily pausing her gentle strokes along her folds - why did Ann always want to talk at this moment? And she said <i>Anne</i> talked too much, “I just - right th- yes, I need you - there, fuck, Pony, yes, I -”</p><p>Ann’s incoherent mumblings always made Anne smile. It was like she couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself, no matter how jumbled they were. She was usually rambling about how much she loved Anne, just where she needed Anne, just how good Anne was at - well, whatever they were doing. She was like a sports commentator, keeping a running narration of her own undoing. It was quite possibly one of the more adorable things about her. </p><p>And so, as Anne took her clit between her lips, Ann’s ramblings started to lose the plot. When she tossed Ann’s leg over her shoulder and wrapped her hands around her hips, her words turned into high-pitched, breathy pleas. Once Anne slipped her tongue past Ann’s folds and started to moan at the heady taste of her on her tongue, Ann wasn’t even attempting words anymore. Moans and gasps and half-cries filled the air as Anne worked her entrance slowly, pausing only to slip her index finger inside and take Ann’s clit between her lips. A few slow, purposeful strokes, and Ann was gone, a broken cry escaping her lips as she shuddered under Anne’s expert touch. Anne was certain she’d never heard anything more beautiful.</p><p>“Pony, Pony, Pony,” Ann breathed, her eyes still closed, her hands tugging at the collar of Anne’s jumper, “come here.”</p><p>“What?” Anne purred, making her way, slowly, up Ann’s body. She paused to taste the sweat on her skin, to relish the salty slickness of her torso, the exquisite scent that was purely Ann Walker. She ghosted over her lips. “I’m right here.”</p><p>With a groan, Ann buried her hands in Anne’s hair, pulling their lips together for a dirty, deep kiss. Ann’s tongue shot out, exploring her wife’s mouth, tracing over her lips, even lapping across her cheeks as she collected every drop of her own arousal from Anne’s face. </p><p>“Oh, fuck,” Anne grinned, pulling back and tearing off her jumper. Ann set to work on her belt as she pulled off her undershirt and bra. “Fuck, Adney, that was hot.”</p><p>“Was it?” Ann wrenched open her trousers, tugging them down to her knees. </p><p>“Yes,” Anne laughed, standing and shucking her bottoms in one move. “Everything you do - Good Lord, I mean, really.”</p><p>Because now Ann was up on her knees, naked and flushed and reaching out for her. Anne groaned - had there ever been anyone more perfect for her? They crashed together, hissing as their bodies molded into each other, their lips finding that perfect, sloppy rhythm. Ann wrapped one hand around her shoulders, the other trailing down her side, taking a handful of her ass and squeezing. Laughing, Anne bucked her hips forward, delighted by this dirty, playful side of her wife. Ann bumped her hips back, pressing her lips to Anne’s neck, leaning her backward until her back hit the sheets. They laughed and untangled themselves, Ann settling over her and pinning her arms above her head, teasing her with those perfect breasts just out of reach. </p><p>“Oh, Pony, Pony, Pony,” she teased, straddling one of Anne’s legs. “You’re so good to me.”</p><p>“Am I?” </p><p>“Oh, yes,” Ann kissed her lips gently, releasing one wrist and trailing it down her stomach. Anne reached for her. “Now, Pony, none of that. Hands to yourself, hmm? You certainly made me crazy today,” her fingers reached Anne’s curls; she spread her legs automatically, “so I think, for a moment, you can keep them right where they are.”</p><p>Anne hummed, but she complied. She always did, with Adney. Ann didn’t need rope or ties or handcuffs to keep her restrained - a single word, often just a look, was more than enough. She’d do anything, anything at all, that Ann Walker asked of her. </p><p>“I never thought,” Ann ghosted over her clit, “that I’d come to Paris. Really, Pony, it didn’t seem possible for me.” Anne wanted to lose herself in those sincere blue eyes, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open - not with the way Ann was playing over her clit. “But you, Anne Lister.” Anne groaned - her wife’s voice was so husky, so breathy and hot in her ear. “You changed everything for me. You know that, don’t you, Pony?” </p><p>Anne nodded frantically, pushing her hips up into Ann’s hand. Not being able to touch her was driving Anne crazy. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could stand. Ann pressed a little harder, sending a jolt of electricity up her spine, into her clenching hands, now held easily between Ann’s. Ann arched her back into Anne’s chest, grinding her breasts against Anne’s. Anne was desperate, writhing, bucking her hips into Ann’s. When had it gotten so hot in here?</p><p>“You’re so funny, Pony.” Ann darted her tongue out to drag along her neck. “You get hotter,” she nipped her jugular, “wetter,” Anne moaned at the word, Ann’s voice, the truth of it, “when I say something sweet,” Ann’s fingers picked up speed, “rather than something dirty.” </p><p>“Please,” she begged, pressing her wrists upward, desperate to feel even an inch of Ann’s skin in her hands. “Ann, please.”</p><p>“Oh, Pony.” Ann kissed her, their lips meeting sloppily - Anne could barely focus, her release coiling tighter and tighter. “Anything for you.”</p><p>And then she was free. Ann released her wrists, shuffling to balance on her forearm, trailing her fingers through Anne’s hair. Desperately, Anne clutched at her shoulders, the back of her neck, her hips - anything, anything at all to get closer. Ann pressed lazy kisses to her neck, along her jaw, just above her collarbone; she strummed Anne’s clit in just that perfect way - the way only she seemed to know, and then - </p><p>“Ann!”</p><p>It was over. Wave after wave crashing into her trembling body, urged on by Ann’s tender touch and her filthy words and the slick press of their bodies. She could hear her own voice, moaning and gasping and calling for Ann. As if a million miles away. She was lost to the sea of pleasure, to Ann’s perfect body molding to her own, to the incredible union of their desires. </p><p>Good Lord, she was getting rather poetic, wasn’t she?</p><p>“Oh, fuck,” Anne exhaled, sliding her eyes open. “Ann Walker.” She settled her hands around Ann’s hips, relishing the postcoital sweatiness of their bodies all smushed together; Ann grinned proudly, her sharp chin digging into Ann’s sternum. “Who taught you to shag like that?”</p><p>“You, obviously.”</p><p>“Obviously.” Anne rolled her eyes, tipping Ann off of her and standing to stretch. “Shall we have dessert in bed?”</p><p>“Obviously,” Ann grinned, sitting up, cross-legged like a child on a field trip. </p><p>Trotting downstairs, Anne shook her head. Ann Walker - full of contradictions and surprises, wasn’t she? She gathered two forks and their boxes, dragging her tired body back up the stairs and flopping onto her back on the bed. </p><p>“Sleepy already?” Ann asked, snapping open her cake. </p><p>“Exhausted,” Anne answered dramatically.</p><p>“Two slices for me, I guess.”</p><p>“No you don’t!” Anne sat up sharply, snatching her box back. “So rude.”</p><p>Eating dessert, in bed, naked, and laughing? Anne had never even <i>dreamed</i> something like that was possible for her. Something so carefree and youthful. She’d thought of herself as rather serious - a buttoned-up professor with an historic estate - but with Ann she was always doing something silly. Like stealing a forkful of her cake, playfully swatting her when she retaliated, then kissing her sticky, chocolaty lips when their desserts had disappeared. </p><p>“Oh, damn,” Ann reached for the third box, “I forgot about this.”</p><p>“I didn’t,” Anne purred, flicking it open and dragging her index finger through it. “I was saving it.”</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>Ann’s eyes were wide as Anne dragged the cream down her chest, between her breasts. She sputtered as Anne leaned forward to drag her tongue up that same path, grinning as she licked her lips and pulled away.</p><p>“For that.”</p><p>“Pony.”</p><p>“What do you think, Miss Walker? Shall I have you for dessert?”</p><p>“Oh, fuck, Pony, yes.”</p><p>Grinning, Anne tilted her head toward the pillows; Ann scrambled to lie down perfectly flat. Anne took a handful - that scowling kid had certainly given them plenty - and spread it lightly across Ann’s nipple. Another handful, same process. One more - along the valley between. Ann arched her back, but Anne took a moment just to enjoy the view. </p><p>“Oh, I do love you, Adney.”</p><p>“Pony,” Ann bit her lip, “come on.”</p><p>“Come on,” Anne teased, bending forward, “you act like you’re in charge around here.”</p><p>With that, Anne planted her hands on either side of her wife’s chest and dipped her tongue into the cream, moaning at the taste. </p><p>“Oh, fuck,” Ann gasped.</p><p>“Yeah?” Anne grinned up at her. </p><p>“Yeah,” she breathed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”</p><p>It was heaven, pure and simple. The sweet cream mixing with Ann’s slick skin. The hard strain of her nipples under Anne’s tongue. The filthy sounds coming from Ann’s mouth. She was writhing below her, her hands twisting the sheets and her hips bucking into Anne’s abdomen. Anne couldn’t hold back a little twist of her own - why hadn’t she done this sooner?</p><p>“Pony?” Ann managed, as Anne flattened her tongue along the broad stripe of cream along her sternum. “Fuck, Pony, hold on.”</p><p>“What?” Anne pulled back, licking her lips. </p><p>“Can I - would you - could I do that to you?”</p><p>“What?” Anne sat on her heels. This was the last thing she thought Ann might say. </p><p>“I just - oh, Pony it feels so good. I think - I think you’d like it. I’d like to - I’d like to do that for you.”</p><p>“Adney, I -” Anne swallowed dryly. She still was less than enthused about an attention to her own breasts. Not that she didn’t enjoy it, the few occasions she allowed it. Not that Ann wasn’t exceedingly delicate and precise in her ministrations. Not that Ann ever did anything but deliver her the most incredible pleasure. Hold on - why <i>was</i> she so caught up? “I don’t know.”</p><p>“Anne,” she sat up, taking Anne’s hand in her own. Her voice was so tender and soft, her smile so gentle. Anne chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Will you let me try? Just one. Just one - uh, side, if you like,” Ann’s eyes flicked down to her chest. “I promise, darling, you - you’re gonna love it.”</p><p>For a beat, Anne just stared into her earnest eyes, so full of devotion. Ann would never do anything to hurt her or push her; she just wanted to please her. She could never deny Ann, could she? Would it make her feel too womanly? Would it ruin their whole night? What would she do if she loved it? What would that even mean?</p><p>“We don’t have to,” Ann said gently, “we can keep doing just exactly what we’re doing. You can say ‘no.’”</p><p>“I- Adney, I just - I’m not sure it’s for me. What if - uh,” Anne looked down at her fidgeting hands, “what if I don’t like it?”</p><p>“You’ll just tell me.” Ann tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I’ll stop. Can I tell you something, though? Today, on the plane, you - I’ve never felt so safe. This whole day, really. You know how important that is for me. How difficult it can be to achieve.” Ann chuckled, and her small hands came into Anne’s downcast view, intertwining with her own fingers. “As you well know. But even when we were doing the bags or at security or when we were waiting or even on the plane - I was scared, kind of - you know, I’m always kind of scared, but I wasn’t actually afraid. You know? I actually felt really safe, even though I wasn’t in my comfort zone. And - gosh, I don’t know if I can get the words right.” Ann inhaled, as if preparing herself. “You make me feel so safe, Anne Lister, and I get to do things that I never thought I could. That I thought weren’t available to me. That I thought I couldn’t handle or wouldn’t like or would make me uncomfortable. And, as it turned out, I could handle it and did survive and I actually love it. Because I trust you, and you take care of me. All I’m asking, darling Anne, is the chance to make you feel that safe. D’you see what I mean? Here, alone, just us and this bed, we could take that risk. If you want to try something like this. I promise you’re safe with me. I want to give you that - that protection. Just like you give to me. It’s okay, if you say ‘no,’ just like it would’ve been okay, at the airport today, if I’d said ‘no.’ But - oh, Anne, but I want you to know you’re safe with me. You’re my wife, and I love you, and I would do anything for you.”</p><p>Anne was properly crying by now, big, fat, traitorous tears running down her cheeks. She clutched Ann’s hands tighter, unable to speak. Not yet.</p><p>“Oh, fuck, I - I’m sorry, Pony. Forget it. I - fuck, I said it all wrong.”</p><p>Over the past several months, Ann had been chipping away at her walls. Every kiss, every touch, every morning snuggle and evening curled up in bed turned into another tumbling brick. Sections of the wall were nothing more than crumbled clay, while other sections were almost as strong as they were a year ago. This? This speech? The crinkle of her forehead and the tender twirling of her fingers in Anne’s? Ann presenting herself so openly - naked, wild hair, sticky chest? It was a bulldozer. That impenetrable wall? A big, old section turned to dust.</p><p>Because, really, this boundary was only partly about comfort. As much as anything, it was about her insecurities. When you’re hooking up with someone you’ve just met in a bar, Anne thought, you need to set up a certain persona. One that keeps you in control, keeps your self-esteem intact, keeps you from thinking about all the other miserable failures in your life. A way to stay in the driver’s seat, dictate what would happen, avoid all disappointment. Being womanized and made vulnerable by some stranger? Unthinkable. Not to mention the need to stay in the husband role for Mary (and Vere and Maria, to a lesser extent). Anne had settled herself into that world for so long; the wall had cobwebs on it. Ann Walker, however, didn’t seem to care. She’d just waltzed right in and subverted everything Anne thought she knew. She didn’t want her to be the husband. She wouldn’t womanize her. She only wanted to give Anne the same pleasure Anne gave her. </p><p>She tilted her head back, begging these hot tears to roll back into her eyes. Ann cupped her face, swiped her cheek with her thumb. </p><p>“You do,” Anne said weakly. “You do make me feel safe. Of course you do. All the time.”</p><p>“We can just go to bed,” Ann offered. “If you want to think about it more.”</p><p>“No,” Anne shook her head, straightening to meet her wife’s gaze. “Let’s do it.”</p><p>“And you’ll tell me? If you want me to stop. If you don’t like it.”</p><p>“Yes.” Anne swallowed. Nodded. Squeezed her wife’s hand. “Yes, Adney.”</p><p>“Joined by growing together,” Ann whispered, referencing the Latin origin for that nickname; Anne worried she’d cry all over again. “Alright, Pony, lie back.”</p><p>She did, steadying her breathing as she nestled into the pillows. Ann hovered over her, kissed her lips gently; Anne wrapped her hands around her waist, grounding herself in the warmth of her smooth skin. Their kiss deepened; Ann probing her tongue inside slowly. She bit her Anne’s lip for a moment, then pulled away and sat on her heels between Anne’s spread legs. Anne squeezed her hips, as much to reassure herself as to do the same for Ann.</p><p>“Okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Anne breathed. </p><p>Smiling widely, Ann reached for the rapidly melting cream. Anne forced herself to relax, remembering Ann’s words, their love, the safe cocoon of her arms. She hissed as Ann twirled her fingertip around her nipple, then coated it with whipped cream. A quirk of Ann’s eyebrow, a nod of Anne’s head, and she repeated the process. She dolloped the rest of the cream on Anne’s flat stomach, spreading it up to her sternum and down to her belly button. </p><p>“Too much?”</p><p>“No.” Anne twisted her hips. “No, darling, get - uh, get on with it.”</p><p>“Bossy Pony,” Ann teased, giving her one last, lingering kiss on the lips before trailing down her throat.</p><p>Closing her eyes, Anne surrendered to the warm heat of her wife’s mouth, the gentle hums as she worked, the intense pleasure shooting from her chest to her core. Ann was right - she absolutely <i>did</i> love it. It was different - sticky and wet and somehow hot and cool at once. Ann was different, too; her tongue seemed to work more determinedly, more purposefully than the last time. She lapped at the streaming white tendrils, flicked her tongue over the straining peak of her nipple, her lips - well, there was no other word than “slurp.” Whatever filthy description, it was heavenly. </p><p>“Adney,” she sighed, eyes glued to her tiny blonde head; Ann kissed her way from one breast to the other, starting this maddening, incredible process all over again. Anne ran her fingers through those curls, gathering her hair in her hands to keep it from trailing through the cream. “Fuck, you were right.”</p><p>“Was I?” Ann looked up, her eyes locking with Anne’s as her tongue stretched out, curling to scoop up the last of the cream from her nipple. Anne moaned - from the sensation, the sight, the sheer overwhelming hotness of the situation. “About what?”</p><p>“I love it.” Anne tugged her ponytail, urging her upward. Ann hovered over her, her belly pressing to Anne’s. “I love you.” She kissed her softly. “I feel safe with you.”</p><p>Their lips met again, deep and sensual and sticky. Ann broke away, biting her lip; the perfect opportunity for Anne to roll her onto her back. </p><p>“Pony!”</p><p>“You, Miss Walker,” Anne purred, “are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.”</p><p>Anne sat back on Ann’s thighs, grinning when she saw most of the cream was now spread across her wife’s flushed skin. This poor bed, she thought. They’d have to throw the sticky comforter to the floor just to sleep tonight.</p><p>“What a mess we’ve made.” She traced a finger along Ann’s stomach, sucking the cream from it. “Dirty, dirty, girl.”</p><p>Ann curled upward, hands on Anne’s sides, and dragged her tongue over her stomach, collecting the last of the cream. A shiver shot along Anne’s spine. She leaned forward, devouring every last drop from Ann’s chest and belly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on such an edge. So needy and desperate and hungry for Ann. It had been - well, at least a few days. </p><p>Pushing Ann’s leg back to her chest, she aligned their cores. It was sweeter, this time, than their lovemaking had been in a little while. Something about Ann’s words, the vulnerability they’d both shown, the very fact they were in Paris right now. It was almost too much. </p><p>“Pony,” she moaned as their cores met. “Oh, fuck. I love you.”</p><p>“I love you.” Anne leaned down, grinding her hips slowly and catching her lips in a soft, searching kiss. “I love you so much, Ann Walker.”</p><p>With the same gentle touches and soft, sappy words, they stoked the bright flame of desire between them. Surely no two humans had ever been in such perfect sync. There was no way any two bodies had been created for each other in the way that theirs were - Ann’s slim leg pressing into her chest, her slender arms wrapping around her back, her soft lips sliding against hers. Without a doubt, no two souls were so clearly meant to be together - in every age, in a thousand stories, in every possible permutation of the universe. </p><p>She was getting all poetic again, wasn’t she?</p><p>“Anne,” her wife gasped, holding her closer. </p><p>Reaching between them, Anne found her clit, and it only took a few quick strokes before Ann was trembling in her arms. Anne followed her - sod waiting, she needed to swim in those warm waters of relief with her. Their hips jerked in unison, the room filling with the filthy, gasping sounds tumbling from their lips. After a moment, Anne rolled onto her back, sighing in relief. </p><p>“Oh, fuck, Adney.”</p><p>“I know,” Ann chuckled, rolling onto her side and wrapping an arm around Anne’s waist. “We might have to buy these people a new comforter.”</p><p>Anne laughed, tugging on her hand. </p><p>“Put that on the list for tomorrow, Adney.”</p><p>“For <i>tomorrow</i>,” Ann sighed sleepily. “Good night, Pony.”</p><p>“We’d better go brush our teeth, my love.” Anne kissed the top of her head. “And whatever else you do in the bathroom. Otherwise, you’ll be all cross in the morning.”</p><p>“No, I won’t.” Ann’s voice was small, childlike, bordering on pouting. She always got so tired afterward. </p><p>“Yes,” Anne drawled, “you will be. Come on, Mrs. Lister.” Anne tugged her to her feet. “Here we go.”</p><p>Grumbling, Ann stumbled down the stairs, with Anne pawing her ass the whole way down. She was truly gorgeous, wasn’t she? Anne thought, hovering in the doorway to the tiny bathroom. It defied logic, didn’t it? Totally paradoxical and yet completely true. This tiny woman with the mass of curly hair and the easily bruised skin and the anxiety and the weak spine. No one had ever made Anne feel so safe.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>So MUCH going in this chapter. </p><p>First, I think it’s important they have a bit of a money talk. For Ann, it’s almost negligible, but for Anne, it’s actually a hugely important symbol. Also, Big Nerd Anne Lister is absolutely too controlling to have an accountant. One of my favorite images from the diaries is a picture of her version of scratch paper that has, like, ink blots and teacup rims and her little calculations. I LOVE HER. </p><p>Then, the whipped cream stuff (thanks VerseTop for that deliciously dirty idea). There have been a lot of comments about Anne expanding her boundaries, so here’s one we’re expanding. Artichoke_heart left a really thoughtful comment a while back that helped me craft Anne’s thought process - like, what could feel like “womanizing” with another person is actually totally different when you’re with your wife (I hope I’m not misquoting). So what Anne might have shied away from in the past is actually something she is excited to experience and explore with Ann (without that insecurity and discomfort) because of the trust at the foundation of their relationship. And several of y’all have left such helpful comments about Ann getting to experience giving that kind of pleasure too, which she hasn’t in the past. </p><p>Soooooo what do we think? Your comments truly give me so much to think about and (as you can tell!) help me shape where the story is going. Please know I really do appreciate and treasure every one. Thank you for reading!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Art Critic Ann Walker</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Me this morning, sitting down to write: NO smut this time! Just fluff!<br/>Me this afternoon, finishing the chapter: well, it just doesn’t feel right without it...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anne Lister took <i>really</i> good care of her. She was preternaturally attuned to Ann’s emotional needs - what would make her anxious and when she got scared and what, specifically, she needed to feel better. Anne also had a knack, of course, for her sexual needs - where Ann needed a little more attention, more pressure, changes in speed and angle and - well, she was just very, very good at it. Beyond that, however, Anne was also very careful about Ann’s physical health - her back in particular, but the rest of her as well. When she left a mark on Ann’s pale skin, she smoothed it with her lips, treated her as tenderly as a glass figurine. When Ann’s hands got cold, she gave up her gloves or let Ann stuff her hands in her own deep pockets. If she was tired or needed to pee or wanted to stop for food, Anne was always happy to slow her usual fast pace. Anne took really good care of her. </p><p>When Ann thought back to their first full day in Paris, she thought of it in terms of parts of her body.</p><p><i>Forehead</i>:</p><p>“You’ll be cold, Adney,” she’d chided as they got ready to leave.</p><p>“I don’t want to carry my hat all day. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Just bring it. I’ll hold it for you.”</p><p>Pouting, Ann took her hat from the pile of outerwear on the small dining table across from the stove. She’d pulled her hair into a neat braid over one shoulder, and she worried the hat, with its silly pom-pom, would make her look childish. She was in Paris, damn it! With Anne Lister, of all people! She wanted to feel sophisticated. </p><p>“Why don’t you wear a hat?” She asked, watching Anne shrug into that swashbuckling greatcoat. </p><p>“Alright,” Anne said easily, picking up her beanie. It was grey and fit close to her head; no goofy pom-pom for her. She pulled it low on her ears. “See? Easy.”</p><p>“Perfect.” Ann dropped her hat back onto the table. “If I get cold, I’ll just use yours.”</p><p>“Adney,” Anne laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”</p><p>Anne kissed her forehead, took her hand, and led her into the day. </p><p><i>Eyes</i>:</p><p>They’d taken a cab to the Musée d’Orsay, partly because of the cold and partly because Anne was, once again, looking out for her. </p><p>“It’s a long walk, love, why don’t we walk back? I don’t want us to get tired before we even get there.”</p><p>That “us” - that was generous. The walk was probably nothing to Anne, with her long legs and muscular thighs, but she knew it would wear Ann out. The city zipped past them, Anne’s warm hand in hers, her impeccable French filling the car as she chatted amicably with the driver. </p><p>“Here we are,” she grinned, leading Ann up the steps. </p><p>It was immense - cavernous, incredible, full of people. More light streaming in than Ann could really believe. For a full minute, she didn’t breathe. There was too much to consume, too much to experience, too much to devour. </p><p>“Alright, Adney?” Anne whispered in her ear, tugging off her hat. </p><p>“Yes,” Ann smiled, “oh, Pony, yes.”</p><p>The best part of the three - nearly four - hours they spent wandering was the shift in Anne’s demeanor. Usually she was so dominant, leading and teaching Ann every step of the way. Here, surrounded by art, Ann was in the driver’s seat. She tugged her wife through the halls by the arm, chattering excitedly with each thrilling discovery. There were just so <i>many</i>. Ann wished she could make her eyes larger, just so that she could absorb more of them - more of each one. Every detail and brush stroke and shadow. </p><p><i>Mouth</i>:</p><p>Though she’d never finished university, Ann had studied art for her entire life. She was mostly self-taught, though she’d had a few lessons. She made an effort to read as much as she could about art history, biographies of her favorite artists, even clunky, dry textbooks on technique and color theory. The one topic that Ann was a certified expert on was art. Anne listened so attentively, so patiently and with such genuine interest; Ann couldn't remember the last time she’d been so quiet. </p><p>“This one, Pony, oh look, can you see how -” and Ann would point out just what made this piece so special. Anne smiled, her eyes following Ann’s finger, a look of serious concentration on her face. </p><p>“Yes, darling, I think you’re right,” she’d say, genuinely interested.</p><p>That was the important bit - Anne wasn’t humoring her. She was actually, legitimately interested in what Ann had to say, her perspective, her opinions. She always was, but here, in the museum, she was an engaged student ready to learn. An engaged student who was also, somehow, brimming with pride for her teacher. </p><p>“This is it!” Ann whispered excitedly, pulling Anne into her side. “This is my favorite. Did you know? Did you know they had this here?”</p><p>Anne smiled like the Sphinx, just wrapping her arms around Ann’s waist from behind, resting her chin on Ann’s shoulder, swaying gently. Ann could feel her nodding as she rambled about Seurat, <i>The Circus</i>, why it was her favorite, what made this painting special, what made him special as an artist. They’d had this discussion before, hadn’t they? Back at Crow Nest in the spring. She hadn’t dared, even in her wildest dreams, to think that someday she would stand here, in Paris, staring at her favorite painting, with Anne Lister’s strong arms around her. </p><p>“See those two ladies up there?” She said over her shoulder, pointing to the faceless figures in the audience of the painting. “I always thought they were - I always stared at them the most. Even before I knew - what I know now. I used to wonder. What were they doing there together? Were they sisters or friends or - I just liked them. Maybe that’s me and you.”</p><p>“Is it?” Anne purred in her ear.</p><p>“I’m the one with the hat.”</p><p>“And what a lovely hat.”</p><p>Ann smiled, drumming her fingers across Ann’s forearms. When most people looked at this painting, sure, they probably focused on the horse. Maybe the clown in the foreground or the tuxedo-clad figure on the right. Ann had too, but over the years, her attention had shifted. What were these people in the stands doing? 19th-century circus-goers. What were their lives like? What would they be missing to be there? How did they know each other? Those two women - what were they going home to?</p><p>“But Adney,” Anne twirled her around, bringing her back to reality, “you can’t be the one with the hat.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“You wouldn’t even wear your hat today.”</p><p>Grinning, Ann took a handful of the thick wool of her wife’s greatcoat and brought their lips together. Just for a moment - they were in the middle of a crowded museum after all. Just for a moment, to consummate the realization of her wildest dream. Just for a moment, she needed to claim that smug smirk as her own. </p><p><i>Neck</i>:</p><p>“So, Adney,” Anne ran a hand up her spine, wrapping around the back of her neck as they stepped out into the midday sun, “was it everything you wished for?”</p><p>“Yes, it was.” Ann couldn’t stop grinning. “I can’t even think - Pony, it was perfect.”</p><p>“Come on.” Anne looped her scarf around her neck, taking her hand as they dashed across the street to the wide, wooden stairs on the banks of the Seine. “I thought you might like it.” She grinned as they trotted down the nearly deserted steps toward the chilly water. “I’m so glad.”</p><p>“This is beautiful, Pony.” Ann looked out over the water, then turned to look back at the ornate buildings behind her. “I can’t believe how beautiful this place is.”</p><p>“I know,” Anne said softly. “I forget, sometimes. That it’s real.”</p><p>This? This vulnerable, beauty-stunned Anne Lister? She was the polar opposite of boot-stomping, gruff-voiced, out-of-my-bloody-way Anne Lister. Ann couldn’t believe how much she loved her. She wrapped her hands in Anne’s thick scarf and pulled her in, kissing her slowly and not caring if anybody stared. For a few blessed moments, they were the only people on those steps, the only people in Paris, the only people in the entire world. </p><p>And then they were moving again, down to a little café where Anne ordered for them both in the most intoxicating and arousing French accent. They squeezed themselves into a tiny table near the window, and Anne started rambling. Her wide, sweeping gestures bumped into passing servers; her bright smile seemed to take up the entire room. Ann was mesmerized by the Adam’s apple bobbing in her throat as they ate, the straight line of her neck leading up to her brilliant face, her dancing eyes that seemed to focus only on Ann. </p><p><i>Shoulders</i>:</p><p>“Do you remember,” Ann asked as they left the restaurant, “that day, oh, ten years ago, when I ran into you near the hilltop? You made a joke about taking me abroad and - uh, and corrupting me?”</p><p>“I do,” Anne answered with a smile.</p><p>“I used to dream about that all the time.” Ann took her hand. “You and me in Rome. You ravishing me in the streets of Paris.”</p><p>“That can be arranged,” Anne purred.</p><p>“Did you mean it?” Ann dared. “It’s okay if you didn’t.”</p><p>“When I said it originally?” Ann nodded. “Yes, I think I did, actually. I didn’t make that joke with anyone else. You have always been a very beautiful girl.”</p><p>“What took you so long?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Why’d you wait so long? To come visit me again?”</p><p>“Oh, uh,” Anne sighed, “I don’t know. You seemed so young and innocent. Barely past adolescence. I was, genuinely, intimidated. I didn’t want to - you know, it’s one thing to joke about corrupting you, but I did worry, actually, about, um, about ruining you. As I’d ruined Eliza.”</p><p>Ann hummed softly, unsure what she could say.</p><p>“I always saw you as more than a pretty face, Adney. I hope you know that.”</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>“It’s a big responsibility, you know, being someone’s first. I - even as I felt drawn to you, I wanted to - it’s easier to go back to someone like Mary, who’s - you know, who’s already corrupted.” She chuckled in a bitter sort of way. “That’s why it took me so long, darling. My head almost got in the way. I‘m glad we didn’t miss each other.”</p><p>“I think we got the timing just right,” Ann leaned up to kiss her cheek, feeling it expand with Anne’s grin. “I’m glad you finally came to get me.”</p><p>They strolled through the historic streets, Anne pointing out this historic building and that noteworthy corner and those little windows where a dog or a cat or a child was peeking out. Their shoulders knocked together. Anne’s hand ghosted over her lower back. Her breath was warm against Ann’s ear as she leaned down to tell her something naughty she’d done in that hotel. <i>This</i> was intimacy, Ann thought. Shagging and sharing secrets and planning for the future - that was intimate too. But sharing this romantic city with her future wife? This jostling of their shoulders, here on the sidewalk, felt more special than any of the dirty things they did in bed. </p><p><i>Waist</i>:</p><p>In the smaller museums they ducked in and out of for the rest of the afternoon, Anne often took her by the waist as they studied a sculpture or discussed the merits of a certain landscape. Her warm hands were reassuring as they cupped her hips and pulled her closer. Ann loved to feel Anne’s own hip nestled in next to hers, especially when she could lean her head against her wife’s strong shoulder and inhale the strong, woody scent that lived in her greatcoat. </p><p>Of course, Anne was not entirely tame on their day out. Even though she’d rebuffed Ann’s attempts at lovemaking this morning, too distracted by the prospects stretching before them. </p><p>“Pony,” Ann had whined, teasing her hands under Anne’s shirt and slipping one leg between hers. “Just a quick one. Before we get up.” She’d rolled her hips into Anne’s. “You know you want to.”</p><p>But Anne was obstinate. She’d kissed Ann fiercely but quickly, her strong arms pulling Ann into her for a delicious moment. Then she’d bit Ann’s lip, pulled away, and laughed.</p><p>“Pony!” Ann cried, watching her descend from the loft. “Come on!”</p><p>“You come on, Mrs. Lister!” Ann could hear her tinkering around the kitchen, making coffee and scrounging up breakfast from the groceries the owners had left for them. “Day’s wasting!”</p><p>Anne did not seem to care that it was barely seven o’clock.</p><p>Despite her morning teasing, Anne seemed to grow more and more aroused as the day passed. She took Ann by the hips in a deserted corner of one of the smaller museums, backing her into the bare wall and snogging her soundly until a sharp cough from an older woman had broken them apart. Blushing, Ann had tugged her ridiculous wife into the next room. </p><p>And then there was the bridge, the one they’d walked over to cross the Seine on the way back to the apartment. Anne had slung one arm around her waist as they leaned over to look at the muddyish water; Ann felt rather impressed by the sight, as if she’d never seen a river before. Anne leaned in close, speaking softly in her ear, over the sounds of passing cars and pedestrians, pointing out buildings and landmarks and - well, surely something else. Ann couldn’t focus, however, because her wife had wormed her hand under Ann’s coat, beneath the back of her jumper, where she was now drawing small, shapeless patterns over her skin.</p><p>“Stop,” Ann hissed, straightening.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Anne grinned that fiendish grin. </p><p>“Your hand is freezing!”</p><p>“Maybe we should pop in somewhere. Warm up.”</p><p>Ann wanted to admonish her, but she found she couldn’t. Not with the whole city pulsing around them, Anne’s hand on her hip, their breath fogging between their lips. Instead, she’d taken two handfuls of Anne’s jumper, pulled her forward, and kissed her urgently. They’d only broken apart when a group of teenage boys had started hollering at them. Anne yelled something back, and they went on their way.</p><p>“What’d you say to them?” Ann reached up, taking her wife’s hat from her head and settling it around her own ears.</p><p>“Fuck off,” Anne shrugged. “Get a life. Get laid.”</p><p>“Good advice, Pony.” </p><p><i>Thighs</i>:</p><p>By the time they walked past the Louvre, Ann’s legs were dragging. </p><p>“Why didn’t we start here?” She whined as they approached the iconic pyramid. “I’m too tired now.”</p><p>“Honestly, darling, I think it might overwhelm you,” Anne said gently. “We could try tomorrow. It’s just - it’s very busy, and I didn’t want to start off with that. We can always come back.”</p><p>Ann said nothing, just turning in place as she took in the buildings surrounding them. Anne’s point was well-made. It probably would have overwhelmed her. It rather did so now. She couldn’t leave Paris without going inside, she thought, but not today. She was already so tired. The sun was starting to set. </p><p>“Are you cross with me?” Anne asked softly.</p><p>“No,” she answered honestly. “No, really, I’m not. You’re right. Let’s take a picture, though.”</p><p>“Adney,” she protested, “my hair is a mess. Let’s do it when we come back.”</p><p>“Who knew Dr. Lister was so vain?” Ann laughed, pulling out her phone. “Come on, Pony, it’s just for me.”</p><p>Sighing, Anne acquiesced. She bent her knees, bringing her face level with Ann’s, smiling broadly into the camera. They took one picture - Ann’s smile grew at the sight of their faces pressed together, the Louvre in the background. She’d been on antidepressants for years, but maybe this was all she needed. Surely no one could feel sad with such a picture in their possession - the grinning face of the love of their life pressed against their own, the Louvre looming behind them. Of course, she knew this was reductionist, knew the importance of taking one’s medicine as prescribed, and she scolded herself for treating mental health so flippantly.</p><p><i>Knees</i>:</p><p>“Can we go in here?” Anne asked as they passed a large, Gothic church. “Just for a moment?”</p><p>“Sure,” she answered, even though she was tired and rather cold and desperate for a soft chair and a hot cup of tea. </p><p>Anne strode inside like she owned the place; Ann followed behind timidly. Could one just - walk into a church? On a Wednesday afternoon? Apparently Anne Lister could. </p><p>They milled around for a few minutes in silence, admiring the stained class, the architecture, the ornate altar. They weren’t the only ones, and that made Ann feel a bit better. Anne whispered to her about the history of the building, the religious significance of certain icons, the meaning of the enormous images painted behind the altar. The place was incredible. Silent but for the occasional click of a stranger’s footsteps. The air felt heavy, not in a bad way - heavy and still and special. Ann started to understand why Anne loved churches so much. </p><p>She was chagrined, however, to find her wife dropping to her knees on the cold marble floor, her eyes closed in deep concentration, her hands clasped together. Ann looked around in confusion - no one else seemed to be doing this. Was this allowed? Why was Ann just - just knelt there? After just a moment, Anne popped back to her feet, winking at her wife and taking her hand. They strolled back out into the late afternoon.</p><p>Anne’s faith was a bit of a mystery to Ann; her wife certainly had her own ideas about religion, but she was more devout than one might expect. Ann went to church more out of habit than anything else; oh, she believed in God and Jesus and the rest, but she didn’t dwell on it. It comforted her to know her parents were in heaven, that her sins would be forgiven, that there was somebody else in charge of all of this. But Anne? Anne seemed to treat Scripture, all priests, and Christianity as a whole just like she treated everything else - analytically, deliberately, with unending energy and enthusiasm. If Ann had had to guess, before they really knew each other, she would’ve thought her wife an atheist, with all the interest in science, the lesbianism, the never-ending desire for premarital sex. In actuality, Anne was incredibly devout, extremely observant, and so well-versed in the Scripture that Ann had once heard a priest groan as they walked into church. </p><p><i>Calves</i>:</p><p>“I’m beat,” Ann declared as they returned to their apartment. She flopped down on one of the armchairs. “I shall never walk again.”</p><p>“Is that right?” Anne grinned, sitting next to her. Ann immediately propped her feet on her wife’s strong thighs, silently demanding a foot and leg rub. Dutifully, Anne started unlacing her trainers. “You did walk a lot today.”</p><p>“I deserve a reward.”</p><p>“What’s that?” Anne ran her hands up her calves, squeezed gently, then back down to her feet. </p><p>“Did I see a tub in that bathroom?”</p><p>“Impossibly, yes,” Anne laughed. “It’s much too small for it. Really, it would make more sense to -”</p><p>“Could we take a bath?”</p><p>“Us together?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Ann fiddled with the hem of her jumper. “We used to do it all the time at Crow Nest.”</p><p>“Yes, we did,” Anne purred, her hands sliding up Ann’s calves again - impossibly warm and broad and strong - heavens, had they always been so veiny? Ann licked her lips. “We haven’t had a bath together in a long time.”</p><p>“That’s what I’m saying, Pony.”</p><p>“Well then.” Anne grinned, tugging her forward until Ann was giggling and falling clumsily into her lap. Ann leaned forward, just as Anne leaned away, teasing her lips just a breath away from her own. With a devilish smirk, Anne tilted her head and kissed her softly and slowly. When they broke apart, she was ginning again. “Let’s do it.”</p><p>Anne carried her to the bathroom, stripping her slowly as the tub filled. It was cramped, and the tub was nowhere near as big and luxurious as the one at Crow Nest. Still, Ann thought, as Anne kissed her softly and dropped her jumper to the floor, it would feel divine after their cold walk home. Their lips met again, and Anne flicked open her jeans, pushing them gently down Ann’s chilly legs. Kneeling, she pressed her lips to Ann’s thighs as she eased her feet from the trousers.</p><p>“Adney,” she inhaled deeply, pulling Ann’s panties down slowly, “we have got to talk about your underwear situation.”</p><p>“Why?” Ann furrowed her brow, setting to work on Anne’s trousers now that she was naked. </p><p>“They’re impossible,” Anne groaned, shucking her t-shirt and jumper in one move. “Much too small.”</p><p>“Would you rather I wore these?” Ann hooked her fingers in her wife’s boxer-briefs.</p><p>“Maybe.” Anne’s eyes were wide with the possibility. </p><p>“I’ll keep that in mind.” </p><p><i>Feet</i>:</p><p>Ann gave her a teasing kiss, and then they were sinking down into the warm water, Anne’s solid body behind her. The tub wasn’t quite as long as her own, so she propped her feet on the rim near the faucet; Anne’s bracketed hers. She studied them as Anne ran a soft, soapy sponge across her skin, undid her plait, recapped the events of the day. Anne’s feet were longer than hers, sure, and bonier. Her toenails were neatly trimmed and plain; Ann’s were painted a bright pink. Half-listening to Anne’s melodious voice, she knocked her foot against Anne’s. Anne shifted her foot over. She did it again. Same result. She tried it with the other foot. Same thing. </p><p>“Are you listening to me, Miss Walker?”</p><p>“Hmmm?” Ann turned her head over her shoulder. </p><p>“Right,” Anne laughed, “just tune me out then.”</p><p>“Do you know,” Ann pressed back against her wife’s chest, grinding her hips gently between Anne’s spread legs, “we’ve never shagged in a bathtub?”</p><p>“That cannot be true.” Anne dropped one hand from the rim of the tub to dance across Ann’s stomach. </p><p>“It is.” Ann ran her hand up and down her wife’s outstretched right leg. “Not even <i>once</i> in that lovely tub at Crow Nest.”<br/>
Anne seemed to think for a moment, then her hand travelled up to Ann’s breast. </p><p>“I suppose you’re right.” She felt Anne’s long nose run along her jawline, then her soft lips press to her neck. “We’d better fix that.”</p><p>“Yes, we’d -”</p><p>Ann never got to finish that thought, because at that moment, Anne leaned forward to catch her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. Anne’s movements were so easy tonight - gentle but purposeful, tender and maddening, soft and impossibly arousing. One hand cupped Ann’s breast, rolling in it gently against her palm, the other slipping between her legs, inching along her inner thigh. </p><p>“Pony,” she gasped, shifting down to press her hips upward. The angle - her feet up in the air like that - it was intense and awkward and different and amazing. “Fuck, Pony.”</p><p>“Give me a moment.” Ann nipped at her shoulder. “Can be difficult.” Her fingers found Ann’s clit; had it really been less than twenty-four hours since they were a sticky mess on that bed upstairs? “Like this.” She started slow circles, both hands moving in perfect unison. “But I am nothing, Miss Walker, if not determined.”</p><p>Ann chuckled breathlessly, the warm water lapping at her neck, her feet twitching in the cool air above the rim. She could feel Anne’s hips grinding against her back, her heavy breathing in her ear, the firm and deliberate strokes of her skilled fingers. </p><p>“Maybe it’s something about this city,” Anne purred in her ear, her hands speeding up, “but I thought I was going to explode in the Musee d’Orsay.” Ann moaned - at her wife’s accent and the intense warmth spreading through her limbs; she was so, so close. “Art Critic Ann Walker? She’s very hot.” Anne’s teeth closed around her earlobe, teasing her as Ann sped toward her release. “You’re so brilliant, my love; I thought I was going to come just then.” Ann cried out, feeling the first wave of her climax crash into her. “Just hearing you talk. Just seeing your face. Fuck, Ann, just being around you sometimes is enough.”</p><p>Who could resist that? Not Ann Walker, that was for sure. Her body stretched taut, her hips lifting up to chase that sublime touch, her toes curling as she surrendered to the intense pleasure shooting through her veins. </p><p>“Oh fuck,” she sighed, bending her knees and dropping them back into the water. “I think I pulled a muscle.”</p><p>“Oh, Adney,” Anne tutted, bending her own knees and leaning forward against Ann’s back. “Shit, are you - are you okay? Here let me -”</p><p> “I’m okay,” Ann said honestly, relaxing and feeling her muscles loosen. “Really, Pony, I promise.”</p><p>“I worried about that. Hard to get the angle right sometimes. I’m sorry. ”</p><p> There she went again, showing more concern for Ann’s body than Ann did. To a lesser extent, she was the same way with Aunt Anne, even with Marian when Thomas jerked her around. Anyone who called Anne self-centered or uncaring had clearly never seen her with someone she loved.</p><p>“Don’t apologize.” Ann turned carefully, sitting on her heels between Anne’s thighs. She’d stretched upright now, the water sloshing just below her breasts, her long legs spread and bent to lean against the sides of the tub. “I'm okay. I was - uh, I was thinking about our feet.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Ann nodded, kissing her slowly and deeply, before turning her attention to the long column of her neck. </p><p>“You were thinking about our feet while I fucked you?” Anne asked, stretching her neck to one side. “Is this some new fetish I should be aware of?”</p><p>“Hush.” Ann bit her shoulder lightly. “I was thinking about how different our feet are. How much further yours have travelled than mine.”</p><p>“Not the most romantic.” </p><p>Anne’s hands trailed across her back, one squeezing her ass, the other cupping her breast. </p><p>“It was actually.” Ann arched into her touch, knowing how much pleasure Anne got from touching her; she snaked one hand between them, to the apex of her wife’s thighs. “How far your feet have gone.” She found Anne’s clit and pressed gently, grinning at her wife’s gasp. “And you still walked yourself to my front door.”</p><p>“I did,” Anne breathed, her eyes slipping closed; her hands moved as if by instinct. Ann loved this, the way her wife used her body to draw her own pleasure, the intense, arousing effect she could have on Anne by merely existing. “I was led to you.”</p><p>“You were,” Ann purred into her neck. “Because you’re mine.” She strummed her wife’s clit a little faster. “You’ve always been mine.”</p><p>Anne moaned, nodding, her lips parted and her chest heaving. What a powerful feeling this was, Ann mused as she worked faster, lifting up on her knees to press her chest into Anne’s face; what a powerful feeling to unravel Anne Lister like this. Anne’s hands dropped to her waist; she buried her face in Ann’s breasts. With just a few more strokes, she was shuddering and gasping against her. Ann slowed down, easing her wife back to earth as she sat back on her heels. </p><p>“I could do that all day,” she purred, running her hands up Anne’s thighs to the bend of her knees above the water. “What are we going to do for dinner, Pony?”</p><p>“I had a place in mind.” Anne squeezed her hips playfully. “And a shop for us to saunter through afterwards, how does that sound? Think your tired feet can handle it?”</p><p>“I mean, I can <i>try</i>,” she answered dramatically, tilting her chin.</p><p>Anne’s wet hands cupped her face, bringing their lips together in one of those tender, sated, do-you-know-how-much-I-love-you kisses. Oh yes, Ann thought, her tired feet would carry her anywhere Anne Lister led.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>The conversation in the “Shoulders” section based on “she seemed pleased at my reminding her of our walk ten years ago by Hill-top etc. - when I had joked about her going abroad - said it had always been my intention to make the offer more seriously as soon as I could - that she must remember I had always been in the same strain - that I had never joked anyone else in the same way &amp; hoped she would now understand that I was more serious than she supposed” September 27, 1832. I think, in reality, Anne may have used that as a line, just to get Ann to think their past flirting was more serious than it was, but I still think it’s a cute memory for them. The flirting before they even knew what was up.</p><p>I struggled a little with this one, because I didn’t want to, like, give a book report on Paris and all the Google Research I could do. I tried to focus more on the way they experience the city together, Ann’s awe of it, all that. Big ups to S. for the tub sex idea - I had to check, but I don’t think they EVER did it in the tub during Quarantine. Nuts. Had to set that one straight. </p><p>Also, many thanks to avocatedroiciviqueetasunisdewasht for the Musee d’Orsay idea! I was trying to figure out where they’d start, and since they have Seurat’s <i>The Circus</i>, it felt right. </p><p>Thank you thank you thank you for your lovely comments and support. I got myself in a bit of a we’re-all-going-to-die-from-this-virus headspace today, and writing this was a really nice distraction. You all are the greatest.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Special Skills</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>French translations in the endnote<br/>Thanks, Sheepy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“No offense to Cordingley, but I don’t think I’ve ever had such good food,” Ann sighed happily as they stepped into the cold evening air.</p><p>Anne took her arm, steering her gently in the direction she wanted.</p><p>“I hardly think Cordingley expects her dinners to measure up to Parisian restaurants,” she laughed; “I don’t think she would be offended in the slightest.”</p><p>A perfect ending, Anne thought, to a similarly perfect day. Following Ann through museum after museum today, she’d felt a bit like an overeager puppy. One of those ones with the too-big training vests. She tried to soak up every moment of it - the glint in her wife’s eyes, the excited tremor in her voice, the tight clutch of her hand. It was exhilarating to be with Ann like that, to watch her revel in her joy. Ann’s joy, of course, became her own, and they’d strolled the city in, what felt to Anne like, a perfectly warm and cozy bubble.</p><p>Now, however, Anne was feeling a little more in control. She’d checked online, and <i>yes</i>, that little shop was still open, under new management it seemed, and practically begging for them to peruse its various naughty aisles. She’d wondered about handcuffs, vibrators, a riding crop. No mention to Ann, of course, who was leaning into her and remarking lazily about the shops they passed. Best to keep it fresh, Anne thought; see what Ann’s interested in.</p><p>“Pony, is that -?”</p><p>Ann had stopped in front of just that shop - the window display made it clear enough what they were selling. </p><p>“It is,” she purred in response. “Shall we go in?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Ann’s eyes were bright as she tugged Anne into the small store. It was brighter than Anne remembered, but perhaps that was a sign of the times. Less scandalous these days, maybe. More mainstream. She hovered in the doorway, watching Ann take in the shelves and displays and boxes. It was cramped, sure, and there was a lot to take in. A headless mannequin in a rather fetching leather ensemble hovered over them to the left. Rows of dildos and plugs along the right. Whips and toys and every manner of restraint. Anne stepped to the side to examine a line of harnesses; her wife tottered forward, seemingly entranced by the rack of costumes. Now, Anne thought, that was unsurprising, given Ann’s love for role play.</p><p><i>“Vous cherchez quoi que ce soit d'particulier?”</i> A bright, vaguely familiar voice called. </p><p>There was a shapely woman behind the counter, her back to the door. The curve of her waist seemed to ring a bell, but Anne couldn’t place her. </p><p><i>“Non, non, nous simplement regardons”,</i> Anne answered flippantly; shopkeepers were always trying to sell something, especially when she just wanted to browse.</p><p>
  <i>“Ah ah, toujours avec les anglicismes.” </i>
</p><p>It was that comment, calling attention to her French misstep. That’s how she knew that voice. The curve of that behind. The lilting, casual French and the flip of her hand. She grabbed Ann’s hand. </p><p>“We’re leaving,” Anne said quickly. “Come on, Ann, we’re -”</p><p>“Anne!” Her wife scoffed. “We haven’t even started to look.”</p><p>“Let’s go,” Anne took her by the arm. “We’ll find somewhere else.”</p><p>
  <i>“Anne Lister, je sais que tu vas pas faire comme si tu m'connaissais pas."</i>
</p><p>She did know her. Of course Anne knew her. She just hadn’t - it never occurred to her that -</p><p>“Maria Barlow,” Anne breathed, her head still spinning. <i>“Travailles-tu ici?” </i></p><p>“I own it,” Maria patted the counter affectionately; she <i>owned</i> it? Anne was surprised. “Girl’s got to support herself somehow. Got a child to put through uni.”</p><p>“That’s right,” she said, grateful to follow Maria’s lead into English; how gauche could a person <i>be</i>, she scolded herself. Anne reached for the daughter’s name, but she couldn’t recall it. “How is she? How are you?”</p><p><i>“J'me plains pas.” </i>Maria shrugged and gestured widely to the shop surrounding them. “Now, be honest, Anne, it’s me. Don’t act shy - what can I get for you?”</p><p>This was the thing she’d enjoyed about Maria - totally authentic, always willing to help, absolutely and unapologetically honest. She looked good, Anne thought, her hips a little fuller since Anne had last seen her, her eyes lined with a few more crinkles when she smiled. Anne sauntered to her and laid her hands flat on the counter. She could see Ann looking at them from the side. Poor thing, she probably didn’t have a clue.</p><p>“Maria, this is my fiancée, Ann Walker. Ann, this is my dear friend Maria Barlow.”</p><p>“Ann Walker,” Maria held her hand out, “I wish I could say I’ve heard so much about you.”</p><p>“Nice to meet you,” Ann said shyly, shaking Maria’s hand.</p><p>“If you’ve wrestled this one away from that Lawton woman, you must be something special.” Anne detected only a hint of bitterness in Maria’s voice; she felt a twinge - she hadn’t always been entirely kind to Maria, either, had she? “What fantasy can I fulfill for you tonight?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Anne looked to her wife. “Darling, had you - uh, seen anything you -?”</p><p>“Oh, come off it, Anne,” Maria laughed. “You always were a hopeless shopper. Come here, Ann Walker, look around with me.”</p><p>Jaw hanging, Anne watched Maria link arms with her wife and start up at the corner of the shop, where all the costumes were. They spoke to each other easily and quietly, as if Anne were not even there. This was something she had forgotten about Maria - how unabashed she was. It never felt awkward to discuss sex with her; it was one of the things that had drawn Anne to her in the first place. Remarkably, Anne felt very little discomfort watching her wife move slowly around the store with Maria. Jealous - a bit. Aroused - most definitely. Awkward - not even close. </p><p>Ann seemed to feel the same way, blushing only slightly as Maria gestured and pointed to various items on her shelves. She was good like this, somewhere between motherly and raunchy, instilling trust and comfort with a wave of her hand. </p><p>“Stop watching us!” Maria scolded playfully. “Or is that something you’re into now?”</p><p>“Please,” Anne laughed. “I’m just - well, don’t I get to be part of this discussion?”</p><p>“Isn’t a surprise more fun?”</p><p>Anne chewed the inside of her lip, studying her wife. Ann certainly seemed excited. Pleased with herself. Absolutely taken in by Maria. Maybe this was better. Let Ann take a bit of control again. At least in the choosing of the toys. Once they got home, all bets were off.</p><p>“I suppose,” Anne sighed. “Can I make one request?”</p><p>“I suppose,” Maria mimicked her. </p><p>She leaned in to Maria’s ear, whispering softly of the item she’d had in mind when they came here. Maria put a hand on her forearm, winked, then shooed her outside. </p><p>In the cold December air, Anne felt a bit like an expectant father. Banished from the room where it happened. She strolled down the block a bit, picked up a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes, strolled back. By the time she returned, Ann was lifting a large, opaque bag from the counter. </p><p>“Have you bankrupted us, Maria?”</p><p>“I should hope not,” she grinned; “I’ve just told your lovely fiancée about our shipping policy.” She winked. “Shall I see you again, Anne Lister?”</p><p>“Uh, I don’t -” Anne looked at the bag in Ann’s hand. “Do we -”</p><p>“Let’s have lunch,” Ann offered. “Tomorrow?”</p><p>“Tomorrow’s a big day for me,” Maria answered. “Everybody wants to get into something dirty on New Year’s Eve.”</p><p>“Right.” Ann nodded. “How about the day after? We’re free, aren’t we, Pony?”</p><p>“We can be.”</p><p>“Excellent,” Maria smiled genuinely. “I live right upstairs, shall we say just before noon?”</p><p>“Sounds perfect,” Ann told her, taking Anne’s hand and turning toward the door.</p><p>“Pony,” Maria murmured appreciatively, “that makes sense.”</p><p>“What was that?” Anne laughed, taking her hand on the way out the door. </p><p>“You’ll have to wait until you see what I’ve bought for us.”</p><p>“And what is that, Mrs. Lister?”</p><p>“It’s a surprise.”</p><p>“Will we ever see Paris again? Or will we spend the rest of our trip tangled up in bed?”</p><p>“Oh! Maria sells sheets! That’s the best part,” Ann said excitedly. “I bought some new ones. So we have something fresh to sleep in tonight.”</p><p>“You don’t usually seem to mind,” Anne bit her lip, “sleeping in dirty sheets.”</p><p>“Maybe not, but it’ll be different tonight.”</p><p>“What does that mean?”</p><p>“Maria told me some very interesting things.”</p><p>“Like what?” Anne tugged her into the lift, leaning back against the wall and pulling Ann to her by the hips. </p><p>“She used the word - well,” Ann shook her head, her face redding, “she asked if I’d ever squirted.”</p><p>“What?” Anne couldn’t help laughing - a mixture of surprise and arousal and excitement. </p><p>“She said you’re good at it.”</p><p>“Am I?”</p><p>Anne fumbled unlocking the door; she’d forgotten this about her time with Maria. This talent of hers. </p><p>“Or you used to be,” Ann teased. “Maybe you’ve lost your touch.”</p><p>“Have I?” Anne laughed in mock outrage. </p><p>Ann set her bag on the rickety dining table with a shrug. </p><p>“Do you want to see what I’ve bought, or not?”</p><p>“Absolutely.”</p><p>“Well, so first, she said you asked for this?” Ann held up a small bullet vibrator. </p><p>“I did.” Anne nodded. “Do you mind?”</p><p>“What’s it for?”</p><p>“Well,” Anne sat in one of the dining chairs, pulling Ann to stand between her legs, “when we’re making love, it could - help. You see?”</p><p>“Okay.” Ann nodded seriously as she set it down; she was incredibly cute, wasn’t she? Anne held her waist while she dug in the bag. “Then there was this.” Ann held up a leather riding crop. “I don’t know, I just - well, I - we can throw it away.”</p><p>“What?” Anne tried to laugh, but she had no breath in her body. “I love this.” She took the crop and swung it experimentally. “I was actually thinking about one of these, too.”</p><p>“Oh, good.” Ann’s face brightened. “Okay, perfect. Now, then there’s, like, a bunch of this.” She held up a bottle of lubricant. “I’m afraid Maria is a very good saleswoman.”</p><p>“You can never have too much,” Anne smiled, squeezing her hips.</p><p>“And then, uh, she said you’d probably like this?” </p><p>In Ann’s small, pale hand was a plastic-wrapped bundle. It was a French maid’s outfit. One of those with the push-up bra and nonexistent skirt. Anne started salivating.</p><p>“Since we’re in France,” Ann teased.</p><p>“Oh, fuck,” she managed. “Oh, my God.”</p><p>“That’s what Maria <i>said</i> you would say!”</p><p>“Holy shit, Adney.”</p><p>“Should I put it on?”</p><p>“Do you want me to combust into flames?”</p><p>“Kind of,” Ann giggled with a shrug. “But seriously, Pony,” she put her hands on Anne’s shoulders, “that thing Maria was talking about.. is it...it’s possible?”</p><p>“Sure it’s possible.” Anne ran her hands up her wife’s sides, then back to her hips. “Anything’s possible.”</p><p>“For <i>me</i>,Pony. For us.”</p><p>“Oh, sure.” Anne was still thinking about the costume in her wife’s hand.</p><p>“Can we try?”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Pony! Listen!” Ann squeezed her shoulder. Dazed, Anne looked up at her. “Could we do that? Tonight?”</p><p>“Do what?”</p><p>“Anne! Focus! Can we try it tonight? The - what I said?”</p><p>What a funny little person her wife was, Anne thought. Apparently unbothered by shopping for sex toys with Anne’s ex. Presenting her with a bag of naughty gifts. Trailing her fingers along the back of Anne’s neck and under the collar of her shirt. But unable to say that one delicious, dirty word.</p><p>“Try what?” Anne feigned ignorance. </p><p>“You <i>know</i>.”</p><p>“I don’t think I do.”</p><p>“You’re doing this on purpose!”</p><p>“If you can’t say it,” Anne husked, “I don’t think you can handle it.”</p><p>“Pony!”</p><p>Anne grinned and shrugged. Her wife inhaled, setting her shoulders.</p><p>“Would you, Anne Lister -”</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>“Do me the honor-”</p><p>“Oh, of course.”</p><p>“Of - of - of - oh, Pony! Can we try to - make me squirt?”</p><p>Anne grinned, removing her wife’s hands from her flushed face. She kissed the inside of each palm. </p><p>“Uh-huh,” Anne smiled. “Why don’t you go put that on?” She tilted her head to the costume. “I’ll get a few things together, hmm?”</p><p>Ann nodded, biting her lip then tilting her chin. Anne pulled her close and kissed her softly, unable to suppress her smile. She bit Ann’s lip gently, then pulled away. With a crisp smack on the bottom, she sent Ann on her way. </p><p>Rising, she cracked her neck, gave her whole body a quick stretch and loosen. It had been years since she’d found herself in this situation. She ripped into the new sheets and popped them into the washing machine; it was one of those washer/dryer combinations right there in the kitchen. Maybe if they timed this just right, their sheets would be warm and fluffy right in time for the - grand finale, as it were. She found the few stubby, leftover candles around the apartment and carried them to the loft. It was proper romantic, wasn’t it? Candlelight. There was a record player in the cabinet with the dresser; Anne dropped the needle on some Linda Ronstadt. She shucked her jumper and unbuttoned the top button of her shirt just as her wife appeared at the top of the stairs. </p><p>“I feel kind of silly.”</p><p>Ann tugged at her skirt, as if trying to make it longer; as it was, it barely covered the tops of her thighs. A strip of pale skin separated the hem from skimpy, translucent black stockings. Her feet shifted anxiously as Anne’s eyes traveled back up, across the cheap, facsimile corset, up to the stretchy white fabric cupping her breasts. She had little elastic sleeves around her arms, as if fallen from her shoulder, in an even line with her chest. </p><p>“Yes, well, don’t,” Anne growled, closing the distance between them in a few strides, taking Ann by the hips and pulling their bodies flush. “You look fucking incredible.”</p><p>Ann laughed and rolled her eyes. She fiddled with Anne’s collar and bit her lip; her eyes were trained on the hollow of Anne’s throat. </p><p>“What?” Anne took her wife’s chin between her thumb and forefinger. “What is it?”</p><p>“I’m kind of nervous.”</p><p>“What?” Anne almost laughed. “No, darling, don’t - uh, don’t worry.” She furrowed her brow. “We’re just going to have sex.” Ann crinkled her nose.” Shag.” A tiny smile. “Make love.” Anne kissed gently. “Like usual. Nothing to be nervous about.”</p><p>“It’ll be different.” Ann flicked open one of her shirt buttons. “Hopefully.”</p><p>“See!” Anne chuckled. “See, you’re fine. You’re not worried at all. You’re excited.”</p><p>“They’re kind of the same thing with me,” Ann said softly.</p><p>“I don’t want you to think about it at all. Okay? Just let’s do this, hmm? Like we always do. Let me make love to my wife.”</p><p>Ann studied her face for a moment, then broke out into a shy smile. She stepped back half a step. </p><p>“Do you like my outfit, Pony?”</p><p>“You know I do.” Anne squeezed her hips. “But then - well, I can’t figure something out.”</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“I’m torn, darling. I can’t decide.” She slid one hand under Ann’s skirt, cupping her firm ass, which was deliciously bare. “I kind of want you to wear it every second of every day.” She squeezed Ann’s ass. “Or maybe I’ll just rip it off you right here.” </p><p>Ann giggled, rolling her hips into Anne’s. With a dip of her head, Anne brought their lips together, the flame igniting between them immediately. Spinning around, Anne walked her back toward the bed, one hand kneading her behind, the other splaying across her back. Ann was mumbling as their lips met over and over again; her hands tangled in Anne’s hair, pulling her impossibly closer. </p><p>With a gentle nudge, Ann fell back onto the sheets. Anne took a moment to appreciate this breathtaking tableau. Ann’s skirt had flipped up, so that her spread legs revealed the wet core of her. Her breasts bobbed gently with her breathing. Her face wore the most incredibly innocent smile. Her arms stretched into the air, reaching out for her wife. Grinning, Anne dropped to her knees, took Ann’s face in her hands, and kissed her. Deep and slow and purposeful. Ann’s arms wrapped around her back, one leg hooking over her waist. Breaking away, Anne balanced on her forearms. </p><p>“So this outfit - it’s,” Anne paused, “one piece? Or two?”</p><p>“Two.” Ann smiled, running one hand under her wife’s shirt. “Top and bottom.”</p><p>“And if I tore it?” Anne lifted an eyebrow. </p><p>“I’d probably come on the spot.”</p><p>Anne clicked her tongue.</p><p>“Well, that’s no fun.”</p><p>Ann giggled and tugged her down for another kiss. Her tongue was demanding, urgent, as she locked her feet behind Anne’s back. With a soft groan, Anne shifted onto one arm, bringing the other between them to massage Ann’s breast. </p><p>“Pony,” she moaned. </p><p>“Ann Walker,” she whispered against the slick skin of her neck. “You can’t believe how much I want you.”</p><p>“Pony,” she repeated, lifting her hips up into Anne’s belly. “Fuck.”</p><p>“You’re so beautiful.” She kissed her neck. “Gorgeous.” Then the sharp line of her clavicle. “Insanely.” The swell of one breast. “Fucking.” The other. “Hot.”</p><p>“Pony!” Ann whined. “Are you going to rip it off or not?”</p><p>“Uh-unh,” Anne sat back on her heels, resting her hands lightly on Ann’s knees, “so impatient.”</p><p>“I am!” Ann hooked one leg around Anne’s waist, pulling her closer. “Come on!”</p><p>“Impossible to -” the record scratched at the needle reached the end of the first side. “Oh, fuck.”</p><p>Anne hopped up, lifting the arm and considering for a moment. Sod the whole thing, she figured, if she’d have to get up and flip the record all the time. Aunt Anne used to have one of those automatic ones that would cycle through record after record. Kind of put a cramp in her plans, getting up every four songs to fiddle with this. She clicked her tongue. Ann started laughing behind her. </p><p>“What!” Anne spun around.</p><p>“You’re so funny.” Ann was propping herself up against the pillows.</p><p>“How?” She put her hands on her hips.</p><p>“Why are you playing records right now?”</p><p>“Just because.”</p><p>“Pony,” Ann drawled, “why?”</p><p>“It’s romantic,” Anne said softly, trying and failing to reel in her jutting lower lip.</p><p>“Oh, I love you.” Ann reached for her. “Getting all these candles lit and soft music to what - to make me squirt?”</p><p>“You don’t have to be so vulgar,” Anne scolded playfully, dropping to her knees between Ann’s legs. “Naughty girl, Miss Walker.”</p><p>Rolling her eyes, Ann tilted her chin. Her lips were urgent, but Anne managed to turn the kiss slow and sensual. She ran one hand up Ann’s warm thigh, traced small circles with her thumb, rolled her hips gently. She pulled back, smiling warmly and taking two handfuls of the cheap fabric of the skirt.</p><p>“There’s no rush, Adney.”</p><p>With that, she tore the skirt in two, leaving Ann entirely bare below the waist. They both gasped as the fabric ripped apart. Anne was genuinely surprised it worked. Might as well use it, she supposed, and winked rakishly at her wife.</p><p>“Fucking hell, Pony.”</p><p>She just grinned as she descended on Ann’s heaving breasts. The room filled with her soft moans as Anne kissed, sucked, and licked her way across her chest. Ann’s hands tangled in her hair, alternating between stroking her scalp gently and roughly tugging her closer. Her hips rolled into Anne’s stomach, her knees occasionally squeezing together around Anne’s hips. When she reached the stretchy fabric around the neckline, Anne took it between her teeth and growled.</p><p>“You,” she tugged the elastic down, freeing Ann’s breast, “are,” same process on the other side, “so,” she took one nipple between her lips, “fucking,” the other, “amazing.”</p><p>“Pony.” Ann’s hips bucked; her face was strained with desire. </p><p>“As much as I adore this,” Anne sat up a bit, “how the hell do I get it off?”</p><p>“Zipper,” Ann managed, “on the back.”</p><p>“Excellent,” Anne purred, leaning back and grabbing her wife by the waist; she flipped her onto her stomach in one easy motion, finding the zipper and pulling it down. She spanked her once. Ann moaned. She spanked her again. Another moan. “Oh, yes, Adney. You look good enough to eat.”</p><p>Ann groaned and bucked her hips up. Well, Anne figured, it never hurt to be thorough. If Ann wanted to squirt, by God, Anne would use every trick she knew. She spread Ann’s cheeks, dipped down, and dragged her tongue in a broad swath along her puckered hole. A muffled gasp came from above. Anne couldn’t help grinning. She kneaded Ann’s ass, pressing her tongue in long stripes between her cheeks. Ann pressed back into her mouth, groaning softly. </p><p>“Pony, fuck,” she whined, “I need you.”</p><p>Humming, Anne bit down gently on the swell of her ass. Ann moaned. Anne laved over the spot with her tongue. Ann sighed. Was there ever a better symphony?</p><p>“Pass me a pillow,” she whispered.</p><p>Ann complied, her arm shaking as she reached up and tossed one behind her. Anne had to straighten and stretch her arm out to catch it. She clicked her tongue.</p><p>“No aim, darling Adney.” She spanked her crisply. “You’d be pretty upset if I’d had to stop and clean up whatever you broke.” She spanked her once more. Ann keened. “Turn over.”</p><p>Ann scrambled to comply. She had that look on - the one where she couldn’t think much further than the pulsing between her legs and the exact location of Anne’s hands and mouth. She lifted her hips urgently, and Anne slid the pillow underneath, propping her up just a bit. Anne laid down between her legs, pressing them up toward her chest. </p><p>“I am quite certain,” she kissed the inside of one thigh, “there has never,” then the other, “been a more delectable sight,” the top of Ann’s close-cropped curls, “than you,” Ann’s swollen and needy clit, “right now.”</p><p>“Anne!” </p><p>“Oh, Adney.” She squeezed her hips, trailing one hand up to cup her breast. “You really are desperate.”</p><p>“Yes, Anne, yes, I - fuck, Anne!” </p><p>It was at that precise moment that Anne had dragged her tongue along her wife’s core and up to her clit. She dipped her tongue between her folds, moaning at the taste of her, then moaning again, deeper this time, at the thought of the warm, wet gush of it they were working toward. She worked steadily, her tongue and lips teasing her wife closer and closer to an impossible peak. Ann was unraveling below her - her fingers buried in her hair, her chest arching into her touch, her lips forming the filthiest sounds.</p><p>“Just - oh, Anne, I - fuck, yes, baby, I - just - don’t stop, please, I -”</p><p>This kind of mumbling, the way Ann’s hands were clutching at head, the persistent twist of her hips under Anne’s hand - Ann was close.</p><p>“Not yet,” she purred, pulling away. “We’re not quite ready for that.”</p><p>“Anne!”</p><p>“Have you forgotten,” Anne kissed her trembling stomach, “what we’re going for?”</p><p>“Anne,” she whined as Anne pressed her lips along her belly, the valley between her breasts, her slick neck. “Anne, please.”</p><p>“So, Adney,” she purred, squeezing one arm below her sweaty body and cupping the back of her head, trailing her other hand down to the apex of her thighs, “the important thing to remember,” she slid her index finger inside, “is to relax.”</p><p>“I am,” Ann let out a high-pitched whine as Anne found that perfect spot inside her; she wrapped one leg around Anne’s hip, “bloody relaxed!”</p><p>“You’re not,” Anne kissed her shoulder as Ann slung one arm around her back. “You’re all coiled up and tense.”</p><p>“Well maybe,” Ann lifted her hips with Anne’s shallow thrusts, “if you’d kiss me,” she dug her fingers into Anne’s skin, “I would!”</p><p>“Whiny Adney,” she teased, dipping her head to catch her lips in a deep, probing kiss. </p><p>Bratty Ann was a treat, in Anne’s opinion. She was so needy and desperate that she forgot any semblance of propriety; she was all grabbing hands and petulant tone and demanding hips. Even now, her tongue thrust into Anne’s mouth and her hands grappled over the shirt Anne was somehow still wearing. She was certainly close, with every stroke across that delicious, spongy spot. It wasn’t so hard, making this happen. Not for Anne. It was all about dedication to foreplay, the right twist of the fingers, the perfectly safe atmosphere. Everybody could do it, but not everybody <i>felt</i> like they could do it. Some women didn’t even like the kind of sex that led to this. Based on the sounds Ann was making, she loved it.</p><p>“You feel that?” Anne breathed in her ear. “That pressure?”</p><p>Ann nodded, her breath now coming in high-pitched gasps. </p><p>“You can let it go.” Anne kissed her clavicle. “Any time you want.” Still massaging and thrusting evenly, she moved further down, pressing her lips to Ann’s hip bone. “But.” She nipped at the top of her thigh. “It’d be kind of amazing,” she settled on her stomach between Ann’s legs, “if you’d do it when you came.”</p><p>“Oh, fuck, Anne, I - I’m so - fuck, - un, I’m so close.”</p><p>“One big release,” Anne breathed against her core. “How does that sound?” She kissed her clit softly; Ann cried out. “<i>And</i> I’m pretty sure, darling Adney, nothing would be hotter than you coming in my mouth.”</p><p>Anne brought her lips to her clit, twisting her fingers just <i>so</i>. Perhaps this is what Maria had meant, when she said Anne had a knack for this. Because, at just that precise moment, Anne managed to curl her fingers, pull her hand back, and close her lips around her wife’s core. With a desperate shout - maybe it was a scream - Ann trembled below her, a gush of Ann’s warm, tangy arousal flooding her mouth. She eased her through her climax with gentle strokes of her tongue and soft, steadying hands on her hip. The sounds coming from her wife’s mouth were incomprehensible, primal, impossibly loud. Finally, Ann stilled, her limbs falling limply to the bed.</p><p>Despite her simmering arousal, Anne only gave her wife a soft kiss on the belly. Might as well shuck her trousers, she figured. Boxers too; they were ruined anyway. Unbuttoning her shirt, she studied the display before her. Ann Walker was - in a word - wrecked. She had a thin line of sweat at her hairline. Her entire body seemed to be flushed and slick and heaving. Her eyes were still closed, a tender smile gracing her slack lips. Now fully naked, Anne dropped down next to her, propped herself on one elbow, and laid a palm on her belly. And waited. It felt like an eternity, but she waited. Ann was worth it.</p><p>“Oh, fuck, Pony.”</p><p>“There she is,” Anne grinned, drumming her fingers over Ann’s stomach. “How are you?”</p><p>“Um, I’m - oh, I don’t know.” Ann opened her eyes, shaking her head at the ceiling. “I’m better than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”</p><p>“Big talk,” Anne purred.</p><p>“Holy shit, though, really.” Ann turned onto her side; she brought a hand up to caress Anne’s cheek. “That was kind of - like, that was magic.”</p><p>“It’s one of my special skills,” she teased, dancing her fingers up and down her wife’s side. “Used to put it on my CV, but it didn’t go over well.”</p><p>“I’d hire you,” Ann teased, leaning toward Anne’s lips. </p><p>Anne grinned for a moment before bringing their lips together. She tried to rein in her desire, remembering An was still recovering, but her body didn’t seem to get the message. Her mouth was demanding, forcing Ann’s open and shoving her tongue inside. She needed more of her, every ounce that Ann could offer; somehow, getting that extra taste of her had only made Anne needier, hungrier. Smiling, Ann nudged her onto her back. </p><p>“Oh, Pony,” Ann cupped her face, “you’re incredible.”</p><p>Anne rolled her eyes, running her hands along her wife’s thighs, to her hips, up to her breasts. She circled her thumbs over Ann’s nipples.</p><p>“Don’t try to distract me,” Ann covered her hands, pulling them away and kissing her knuckles. “You don’t even - like, you’re not even <i>aware</i>.”</p><p>“Aware?”</p><p>“You’re - like you’re really good at that.”</p><p>“I know.” Anne rolled her eyes again, even as she enjoyed the praise. </p><p>“It’s not a simple thing, Pony.”</p><p>“Most people are just bad at sex. Too impatient.”</p><p>“Pony-”</p><p>“I’m feeling a little impatient myself,” Anne teased, bucking her hips up against Ann’s core. “If you haven’t noticed.”</p><p>“Fine,” Ann smiled, “I’ll let you go this time, but when we finish?” She scooted backward, settling between Anne’s spread legs. “When we’re sleepy and getting ready for bed?” She trailed one hand down Anne’s flat stomach. “When the sheets are dry and you’re all snuggled up with me?” She stroked Anne’s core. “We’re going to talk about it more.”</p><p>“Adney,” she whined, “come on.”</p><p>“I know, baby.” Ann leaned forward, shifting to straddle one of Anne’s thighs, her breasts pressing against Anne’s. “I’m right here, darling.”</p><p>With a soft groan, Anne wrapped her arms around her wife, pulling her down for a sloppy kiss. Ann’s fingers moved in a perfectly slow, exquisitely tender rhythm. Anne was on the edge already, but Ann, against all odds, managed to draw it out. She was so good at this, Anne thought with the tiny part of her brain not overwhelmed by the warm press of her wife’s body. Ann’s special skill was making slow, gentle love to her with tired muscles and heavy eyelids, even as sleep rapidly crept up behind her. </p><p>“Noting and no one,” Ann breathed in her ear, circling her clit a bit faster, “makes me feel the way that you do.” Anne lifted her hips, begging for more; in her infinite mercy, Ann acquiesced, pressing harder and strumming faster. “All day long,” her tongue flicked out along the shell of Anne’s ear, “I thought I couldn’t love you more. And, I mean,” Ann chuckled, “holy fucking shit, Pony.” Anne gripped her arm, how in the world was any one person this incredible? “I wonder sometimes if you’re even real. You’re an angel.” Anne cried out, her entire body tensing as she teetered on the edge. “You’re a goddess.”</p><p>She stretched taut, a choked moan slipping from her lips as those waves finally crashed into her. Ann’s gentle fingers and soft words coaxed her through, grounding her in the warmth of her body even as she floated in the warm pool of her release. Often, Anne’s climax was secondary and rushed and too quick. Not through any fault of Ann’s - it was a hell of a lot better than her own hand, by a long shot. But sometimes, as tonight, Ann managed to steal her breath with her tender touch and draw every last drop of pleasure from her. </p><p>“Adney,” she croaked as she drifted back to reality. “Oh, fuck.”</p><p>“I know,” Ann laughed, rolling onto her back, “now we have to go back downstairs.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“These sheets! We need the other ones.”</p><p>Anne groaned. </p><p>“I’m tired,” she pouted. “You do it.”</p><p>“Pony!”</p><p>“Adney!”</p><p>“Come <i>on</i>.”</p><p>They stared at each other for a moment. Ann blinked. </p><p>“Fine!” She heaved herself upright. “Fine, fine, fine.”</p><p>“You certainly are,” Anne purred, watching her naked little body trot down the stairs. </p><p>Ann appeared above her a moment later and smacked her gently on the stomach. </p><p>“Up, Pony!”</p><p>Anne groaned.</p><p>“Don’t make me get that crop.”</p><p>“Oh, I wish you would.” Anne grinned, suddenly energized and popping upright.</p><p>They stripped the bed, dropping the old sheets in a pile in the corner. Making the bed together was one thing they were good at - lots of late-night practice in similar situations. Though none as special as tonight, Anne thought smugly as they went through their nightly rituals, pulled on their pajamas, and slid under the covers. </p><p>“Can we sleep late?” Ann said as she snuggled into her chest.</p><p>“Sure.” Anne stroked her back and flicked open their book. “How’s 7:30?”</p><p>“Pony!” Ann pinched her side. “And before you start that, can I finish what I was saying earlier?”</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>“So - look. Obviously, I didn’t come into this with a whole lot of experience.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“But I did have the one.”</p><p>Right,” Anne said slowly, unsure where this was headed. Ann never referenced Ainsworth anymore.</p><p>“And you’ve always made me feel so safe, darling Pony.”</p><p>“You said that last night,” Anne kissed the top of her head.</p><p>“Seriously,” Ann squeezed her hip, “that release - the - the way I came tonight? That was, like, next level. Something special. There was a time I really never thought I’d - I’d have anything like that. And you give that to me every single day. Sometimes more than once,” Ann chuckled. “So there’s that.”</p><p>“I’m glad,” Anne said genuinely.</p><p>“The other thing,” Ann’s voice turned lighter, “is you’re so <i>fucking</i> good at that. Like, we do not talk about that enough.”</p><p>“I have been telling you that,” Anne teased.</p><p>“Actually, though! You talk a lot about the bad things in your past, all your scrapes and those ungrateful women who let you slip away, but the upside of that,” Ann kissed her shoulder, “is how insanely good you are with a woman’s body.”</p><p>“Years of practice.” Anne grinned, positively beaming down at her wife. “Just to deliver my expertise to you.”</p><p>“That’s right.” Ann squeezed her hip possessively. “All for me.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>1 MILLION thanks to ReleaseTheSheep for the French in this chapter!<br/>Translations:<br/><i>Vous cherchez quoi que ce soit d'particulier ?</i> = Are you looking for anything in particular?<br/><i>Non, non, nous simplement regardons.</i> = No no, we're just looking (but not quite correct)<br/><i>Ah ah, toujours avec les anglicismes.</i> = Tut tut, always with the (translator's note: uhhhh literal translations? I guess? it's a very particular word that encompasses incorrect word usage, grammatical errors, and word order borne of thinking in English while speaking French. Really common and something the French love to pick on. Perfect for Maria to feel superior here, despite also being English 😂)<br/><i>Je sais que tu vas pas faire comme si tu m'connaissais pas.</i> - “I know you're not going to act like you don't know me"<br/><i>Travailles-tu ici ?</i> = Do you work here?<br/><i>J'me plains pas.</i> = Can’t complain.</p><p>Thank you to Beth for the French maid idea! And a few of y’all, I think, mentioned squirting so... here we are.</p><p>Anne Lister is, like, supernatural at shagging. That’s a fact about IRL Anne and this Anne. I will not be taking questions at this time. It is law.</p><p>Thank you for reading! As always, I love love love to hear your thoughts!</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. You Are Always Entranced, Pony</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was overdue, to be honest. She should’ve expected this. Ever since Christmas night, when Anne had pressed her up against that door jamb, she’d been on borrowed time. Then walking halfway across Paris - or what <i>felt</i> like halfway - and thrashing around in the tub and thoroughly dehydrating herself last night. She knew better. She shouldn’t be so disappointed. </p><p>Rolling over painfully, she looked at Anne’s profile in the dark. It was still early, maybe five? Anne would wake up soon, and Ann would have to tell her what a miserable, stupid failure her wife was. That Anne had been generous and kind enough to bring her all the way to Paris and now Ann couldn’t even enjoy it. She certainly couldn’t traipse through the Louvre today like they’d planned. Maybe she couldn’t even make it down those treacherous stairs to the bathroom. </p><p>“Adney,” her wife murmured, rolling over to face her and blinking sleepily in the dark. “Up so early?”</p><p>“My back,” Ann whispered. “It’s out.”</p><p>“Oh, darling,” she answered softly, pulling Ann close. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I don’t - I’m sorry, Anne.”</p><p>“You don’t need to be sorry, baby.” Anne kissed the top of her head. “We can just stay right here all day.”</p><p>“Can we?” </p><p>“Of course. Where are your pills?” </p><p>“Downstairs.”</p><p>Anne pulled away, as if to get them, but Ann grabbed her arm. Getting up in the wee hours and leaving their warm cocoon to get Ann’s painkillers? Not even a hint of disappointment when they couldn’t even do all the things Anne had planned? Was there ever anyone better? Ann shook her head and lifted herself up, trying to hide her wincing.</p><p>“Adney, let me.”</p><p>“It’s fine, Pony. I’m going to have a quick shower, too.”</p><p>Anne took her hand as she passed, curling upright and pressing her lips to Ann’s knuckles. The warmth of her hand and lips stuck with Ann all the way down the stairs and into the bathroom. She managed to gulp down her pills, take a quick shower, not bothering to wash her hair, and pad back up stairs. Anne was propped up against the pillows with her journal. The room was bathed in a soft glow from the lamp on the bedside table. Ann’s mouth ran dry at the sight of her wife, so soft and domestic, one leg bent and balancing her journal, her glasses low on her nose, her hand flying across the page.</p><p>“How do you feel, darling?”</p><p>“Not great,” Ann dropped onto the bed in only her towel. “I thought the shower would help, but I’m exhausted.”</p><p>“I’m sorry. What can I do?”</p><p>“Just talk to me.” </p><p>Ann reached out and fiddled with the hem of her wife’s boxers. Anne flipped her journal closed. </p><p>“Alright, what do you want to talk about?”</p><p>“How did you meet Maria Barlow?”</p><p>Rolling her eyes, Anne scoffed out a laugh. </p><p>“I was in Paris.”</p><p>“Sure,” Ann nodded.</p><p>“I came alone this time - oh, eight years ago, I guess - and I was staying in this hostel. And she was too. We’d stay up, everyone who lived there, and we’d play games and talk all night. It was excellent for my French.”</p><p>“Is that why she was teasing you?” Ann asked, remembering how Anne had blushed, how Maria had explained her mistake once Anne was gone. </p><p>“Yes,” Anne said ruefully. “My conversational French is - well, I do try.” They both chuckled. “We used to play this game called <i>les questions</i>, and Maria always made it so dirty.”</p><p>“How does it work?”</p><p>“Basically, everyone writes down general conversation questions or topical things, and then we all go around trying to come up with the funniest answer. Maria won <i>a lot</i>.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Well,” Anne scooted down and rolled onto her side, trailing one hand down Ann’s clavicle to the line of her towel, still tied above her bust, “she always came up with the dirtiest things.”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know.” Anne flicked open her towel. “Always some pun or other.” Her fingers trailed down between her breasts. “Innuendo.” </p><p>“And then what?”</p><p>“I was sort of entranced by her.” </p><p>Anne’s long fingers skated across her damp skill. It tickled, but that’s not why Ann laughed.</p><p>“What?” Anne demanded with a grin.</p><p>“You are always entranced, Pony. By a pretty girl.”</p><p>“Maybe I was,” Anne shrugged, “but not anymore. Now I have you.”</p><p>“Not even true,” she teased. “You checked out some girl on the street yesterday.”</p><p>“What?” Anne’s face flushed with guilt. “Of course I didn’t.”</p><p>“You can’t help yourself, Pony. It’s kind of cute.”</p><p>Anne scoffed, shaking her head.</p><p>“I know you’re only looking, darling. Tell me more about Maria.”</p><p>“What else to tell? Pretty soon we were staying up every night together, and we’d scoot closer,” Anne slid closer, tracing one hand up to her breast, “and closer.”</p><p>“How long,” Ann breathed as her wife’s hand covered her breast, “before she sat on your knee?”</p><p>“About two weeks.”</p><p>Anne’s grin was so smug, her hand so warm and sure as it massaged her breast, that Ann could only laugh breathlessly. She arched her back, then groaned in pain. Anne pulled her hand back and slid down to Ann’s belly. Ann frowned - why was she so broken and weak and -</p><p>“Stop that,” Anne said sternly. “Don’t think those things.”</p><p>“But I can’t -”</p><p>“If you talk about my wife like that,” Anne leaned forward, “I’ll have to punish you.”</p><p>“Pony, I -”</p><p>With a shake of her head and a kiss to the shoulder, Anne managed to wash her worries away. She nipped Ann’s shoulder gently before continuing.</p><p>“Every night, I’d beg her for a few more minutes before she’d go upstairs. She has a daughter, a teenager back then, and they were sharing a room. The daughter went to bed early, and Maria would stay up with me. I’d say five more minutes,” Anne husked, leaning closer, “ten.” She caught her lips softly. “Turn ten minutes into six hundred breathless moments. You know what she said to me one night?”</p><p>“What?” Ann was breathless. </p><p>“‘But Anne, your minutes are so long.’” Anne grinned fiendishly before kissing her again; Ann brought a hand up to tangle in her hair, wild from sleep. “Eventually, we both got our own places, but I spent a lot of nights at hers.”</p><p>“I bet you did.” Ann rolled her eyes.</p><p>“She taught me a lot.” Anne winked. “I really did love her, in a way.”</p><p>Ann hummed, starting to regret bringing it up. Between Anne’s teasing tone and her nimble fingers and the jealousy swirling in her gut, Ann was feeling rather on edge. With her back the way it was, she couldn’t do what she wanted. She huffed.</p><p>“I’m sorry, darling,” Anne whispered, “I shouldn’t have said that.”</p><p>“No, no, it’s - gosh, I don’t know. It’s hard to think about you with someone else. Usually I don’t mind - you know, because I can kind of see why it didn’t work out. But with Maria - oh, I don’t know.”</p><p>Anne nodded, her brow furrowed in concentration. Then she swung one leg over Ann’s, dropping her knee between Ann’s and hovering over her. She fixed Ann with a serious look before leaning down to cup her face and kiss her soundly. Pulling away, Anne still had that serious look on her face. </p><p>“I’ll tell you why it didn’t work, Adney, and it’s very simple.” Anne stroked her thumb over Ann’s cheek. “She wasn’t you.”</p><p>It was lovely, hearing these words, but they weren’t enough. Ann pushed her shoulders, and Anne rolled onto her back. Following her, Ann turned carefully onto her side, then onto Anne’s chest, intertwining their legs. The change in position was a relief to her back, as was the reassuring warmth of Anne below her. </p><p>“That’s sweet, Pony, but it’s not true.”</p><p>“Of course it is.” Anne walked her fingers up Ann’s spine.</p><p>“It’s not. What actually happened? She seems lovely and sexy and fun. You love Paris, and you love her. It sounds - um, it sounds like it should’ve worked out.”</p><p>Ann rose and fell with her wife’s heavy sigh. She could hear Anne swallow. </p><p>“I wasn’t - uh, I don’t think I was ready. To commit to her and be serious. I never really gave it a chance. Part of it, in truth, is that my heart and my future have always been in Shibden. She never wanted to leave Paris. Knowing that, I never considered it seriously. In a way, I was still caught up in Mary, of course, so I didn’t treat our relationship as more than a bit of fun. It felt like an affair, really, more than a serious relationship. Like I was cheating on Mary, not like I was dating Maria. Does that make sense?”</p><p>“Yes,” Ann said simply, tracing her finger over Anne’s arm. It was difficult, sometimes, to square this version of Anne with the one below her now. She seemed almost cruel, rather heartless, in some of her dealings with women. “Why didn’t - it’s just a bit strange to me.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Did you ever feel that way with me?” Ann stared at her wife’s undershirt-clad shoulder. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, but she needed to ask. “Like you were cheating on Mary.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>Ann needed more - why wasn’t she saying more? Anne usually had so very <i>much</i> to say. </p><p>“Yes, Adney. Really. I - it’s a bit complicated, but - here’s the thing. I was pretty serious about Vere Hobart, right? Actually pursuing her in a real way. So I’d started to - kind of - separate from Mary. From that idea that I was cheating on Mary. Partly because of - well, sometime I’ll tell you about it - but, partly because we’d started to drift apart. It didn’t really - uh, I guess work with my own view of myself to think of it as cheating. I’m not a cheat.” Ann nodded, smiling softly at her wife’s firm tone. “I’d divorced myself from Mary in my mind, so - so by the time I came to see you, I didn’t feel so connected to her. It was always you, darling. I never thought about it - thought about you like I thought about Maria.”</p><p>Ann hummed, nodding again. </p><p>“That’s the difference, Adney. You’re different, and I am too. We’ve always been different. I don’t think I was entirely fair to Maria, and I - I think I should apologize. Speak to her about it. Tomorrow at lunch.”</p><p>“I don’t know, Pony. I mean, that’s nice, but some things just don’t work out.”</p><p>“Well, it - I wasn’t fair to her then, and I strung her along. Teasing phone calls and texts and - I’d encourage her to go out with someone else, and then I’d call her for - well, you know.” Ann’s face colored, even as her core clenched a bit at the thought of Anne’s husky voice whispering dirty things through the phone. “Then I came back to - to Paris, and I brought Mary, and I - I was such a prick. I feel ashamed of myself.”</p><p>“Hey, Pony,” Ann propped herself up a bit to look her wife in the eye, “that’s - I mean, it’s okay to - I think it’s nice that you feel bad. I think that shows that you, uh, have learned something from your - from the past. I think, too, you can cut yourself some slack. The Maria Barlow I met didn’t seem to hold any grudges against you.”</p><p>Anne nodded, her lips doing that thing that Ann knew meant she was trying not to cry. Ann settled back against her chest. </p><p>“Now, when you’d call her,” Ann slipped her hand under Anne’s shirt, “what would you say?”</p><p>“Adney,” she laughed, “come on.”</p><p>“I just <i>wonder</i>!” Ann squeezed her wife’s hip. “We’ve only done that once, and it was really short.” </p><p>“We’re never apart.”</p><p>“Well, yeah, but - come on, Pony, what would you say?” </p><p>“You’re going to be all mad with me when you’re worked up and your back still hurts.”</p><p>“Maybe my back doesn’t hurt anymore.”</p><p>“But does it?”</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a little.”</p><p>“See? It’s not fair. Let’s just stay like this.” Anne tightened her grip around her back. “You can sleep a bit more. Sun’s barely up.”</p><p>Ann opened her mouth to protest, but she was, actually, fairly tired. They had been up rather late, hadn’t they? What time even was it? Somewhere in these calculations she must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, Anne was stroking her bare back with one hand and holding her book open with the other. Sunlight was streaming in weakly from the window. Anne smelled vaguely of soap - had she been for a shower? Slipped in and out of bed without Ann even noticing? Ann murmured sleepily and watched the book flicked closed. </p><p>“Good morning,” Anne purred. </p><p>“Hi,” she said softly, pressing her lips to Anne’s throat. </p><p>“How’s that back?” </p><p>“Better. I don’t know how much I should be walking around today, though.”</p><p>“No matter,” Anne said crisply, rolling her over. “I’ve made plans.”</p><p>“Have you?” Ann laughed, tilting her chin.</p><p>Anne kissed her once, lightly, then wrapped Ann in her arms and kissed her again, deeply and slowly. She pulled back with a grin. </p><p>“I thought, perhaps,” another kiss, “you deserved some pampering.” Her fingers danced down to the apex of Ann’s thighs. “Did you know there’s a spa just around the corner from here?”</p><p>“Pony.” Ann reached for her, needing to feel her strong body in her arms. “You can talk about our plans -” she moaned as Anne circled her clit, “or you can fuck me.” Anne pressed harder. “I won’t survive if you do both.”</p><p>“Fair enough,” Anne grinned, bending her neck to catch Ann’s lips again. </p><p>Anne was exceedingly gentle this morning. The press of her fingers and the slide of her lips - she would almost seem to be an entirely different woman than the one who’d brought Ann to such an intense climax just a few hours ago. She treated Ann so tenderly it was almost annoying; not quite a tease, but she was certainly taking her time. She eased one long, perfect finger inside and Ann sighed in relief.</p><p>“Finally.”</p><p>She hadn’t meant to say it, not out loud like that. Anne started laughing. </p><p>“Finally? Is that it? When I’m trying to make sweet, sweet love to you?” She teased. “Perhaps you don’t deserve it at all.” Ann gripped her shoulders tighter. “Ah, there she is. My desperate Adney.”</p><p>“Yes, yes, Pony, please.” Ann lifted her hips up, a silent plea, but Anne pulled back, sitting astride one of her thighs and placing a single hand on her hip. “What?”</p><p>“None of that, my love. I worry about your back.” She restarted her slow thrusts, slipping a second finger inside. “All the writhing about you do when you’re close.” Anne ground her hips against Ann’s thigh; they both moaned at the wetness soaking through her shorts. “I don’t want to make anything worse.”</p><p>All Ann could do was whine and reach for her shirt. Anne was unmovable, keeping her back straight as she continued to stroke Ann gently toward her release, her hips perpetually grinding against Anne’s thighs. She was stunning, like this, with her sharp jaw and her broad shoulders; her nipples strained at her t-shirt, and her thighs flexed every movement. She was made for this - her hands built expressly for holding Ann, for protecting her, for delivering that exquisite pleasure Ann felt growing between her legs. Before she could even realize what was happening, Ann was shuddering, curling upward and tugging Anne down to her. They crashed together, their lips meeting sloppily as Anne drew every drop of pleasure from her. </p><p>“Fuck, Pony,” she groaned, her fingers fumbling between them to the waistband of Anne’s boxers. “Do you- we can - roll over.”</p><p>“Just like this, Adney.” Anne’s hips were still grinding, pausing only when Ann’s hand touched her stomach. “I’m close, baby, come on.”</p><p>“So bossy,” Ann teased, nipping Anne’s earlobe as she strummed her clit. “You’re not the boss now, are you, darling? Not in my arms.” Anne keened, her face screwed up in concentration as she rocked forcefully against Ann’s hand. “So I think you’ll come. Right now. Because I tell you to.”</p><p>With a satisfied grin, Ann watched as her wife jerked forward for a moment, then trembled and fell onto her chest with a groan. She kissed her sweaty neck, easing the aftershocks from her and rubbing her back. After a long moment, Anne raised her head, kissed her fiercely, grinned, and flopped onto her back.</p><p>“Not a bad way to wake up,” Ann said with a smile.</p><p>“I’ve been awake for hours, Adney,” Anne teased, hopping to her feet, “and we’ve got to get a move on.”</p><p>“What?” Ann whined. “I thought we could stay like this all day.”</p><p>“Ah, but I’ve thought of something better. We’re going to the spa, my darling.”</p><p>“Pony!” Ann kicked her feet.</p><p>“So whiny,” Anne laughed, stripping out of her nightclothes. “You’re going to love it. I’ve booked you for a massage and a facial and all sorts of lovely things. It’s a five minute walk from here.”</p><p>“But I - wait. You’ve booked <i>me</i>?” </p><p>“Sure.” Anne stepped into fresh boxer-briefs. “We’re lucky they could take you on such short notice anyway.”</p><p>Ann was starting to get suspicious. She sat up, relieved to find her back pain was down to a dull ache rather than the crippling tightness of the night. Anne pulled on a flannel, and Ann motioned for her to come closer. This was a benefit, Ann thought, to being with Anne Lister. A benefit that Mariana failed to see, with all her talk of clothes and gender roles and societal expectations. Was there anything more intimate than buttoning up a shirt? Ann did up Anne’s shirts as often as she could; it was a good excuse to get her wife close, to feel the warmth radiating from her body, to inhale deeply and soak up her scent. She looked up at Anne impishly. </p><p>“You haven’t made any reservations for yourself.”</p><p>“Well, no.” Anne looked confused. “It’s not really my thing.”</p><p>“Then I’m not going.”</p><p>“What?” Anne scoffed. “No, you’re going. It’ll be good for you. You love massages.”</p><p>“I do,” Ann said seriously. “I really, really do. And you’re going to join me.”</p><p>“Ann-”</p><p>“Not up for discussion, Dr. Lister. I’m not going alone. I don’t speak French.”</p><p>“Well, sure, so I’ll go and set you up, and then just wait. I might stroll around until you’re ready, but -”</p><p>“Oh, but I think I’d miss you too much.” Ann smoothed her hands along Anne’s broad shoulders. “Come with me. I don’t want to go without you.”</p><p>“I-” Anne sighed. “Fine. Okay.”</p><p>“Good!” Ann’s eyes lit up. “Perfect.”</p><p>“The things I do for you,” Anne grumbled, pulling on her jeans. Ann hopped out of bed and rooted around for her clothes. “I hope you’re happy.”</p><p>“I am, Pony. Do you know why?” They both paused and faced each other. Ann smiled warmly and spoke seriously. “That thing you said - about it being different with me? This is how I know that’s true. I can tell in the way you touch me and speak to me and - you put yourself out of your comfort zone for me. You try new things for me. You do anything I ask.” She kissed Ann’s cheek. “I love you, Pony.”</p><p>Anne scoffed and rolled her eyes, but Ann saw through her. Perhaps that was the difference after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>The Maria Barlow stuff is all from <i>No Priest But Love</i>, including the questions game and coming back with Mariana. I think Anne has a fair amount to reckon with the cruelty of her own actions, rather than focusing on the ways in which she was hurt. Relationships are complicated like that.<br/>Specific lines:<br/>“I said 10 &amp; [she] replied, but my minutes were always so long” November 14, 1824<br/>“Slept with A- she lay down naked after washing and staid with me I grubbling her till after 8” August 19, 1837</p><p>And thank you to Yab for tipping me off that there’s a hotel with a bar and a spa just around the corner from where the Ann(e)s are staying! Looking forward to exploring that with these two. </p><p>Thank you for reading!</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Get Me Bodied</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>French translations at the end - thank you, Sheep!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>How could Ann be so fucking <i>relaxed</i>? She was practically beaming from the facial treatment - or whatever - that they’d just suffered through. Anne felt like her own face was on fire. She twitched in her seat, where they’d been parked to wait for the massage/torture position of this ordeal. This was the most uncomfortable she’d felt in quite a long time. The whole idea of spa treatments made her skin crawl. Getting naked? Wrapping up in this ridiculous, fluffy robe? Sliding her feet into these little slippers? What a nightmare.</p><p>“Pony,” her wife drawled, “stop.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Ann put a small hand on her knee, just below the robe. Another problem with these robes: they were too bloody short. Anne crossed her legs tighter. </p><p>“You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin. Calm down. That’s the whole point of this.”</p><p>“I am calm,” she hissed through gritted teeth.</p><p>“What’s the problem?” Ann asked gently. “Specifically, what is making you feel this way?”</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“Liar.”</p><p>“Ann! Leave me alone. Where the hell is the person? The - you know? What are we waiting for?”</p><p>“That’s the point. We’re supposed to be relaxing. You’re getting yourself more and more wound up.”</p><p>“I am not.”</p><p>Anne crossed her arms over her chest, staring at Ann’s hand on her knee and resenting it for keeping her from jostling as she wished.</p><p>“Is it being touched?” Ann asked softly “The unfamiliar place? What’s going on?”</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“I’m so serious, Anne Lister, if you don’t tell me right now, I will - I’ll call Aunt Anne.”</p><p>“What!” Anne turned sharply to her wife.</p><p>“I’ll call her and say you’re acting like a baby, which is the truth, and then I’ll let <i>her</i> knock some sense into you.”</p><p>For a moment, they stared at each other - Anne scowling, her wife with a perfectly peaceful, defiant look on her face. It was no use. Ann could always push her buttons. She huffed and looked up at the ceiling.</p><p>“It’s the robe,” she bit out.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“It’s the robe. Being all - I don’t know - womanly. I feel weak and exposed and -”</p><p>“Okay.” Ann squeezed her knee. “Okay. What makes you feel weak?”</p><p>“Being naked!”</p><p>“Anne,” she chuckled, “I have seen you naked hundreds of times. Every single time, I have told you how stunning you are. You’re one of the most confident people I’ve ever met. What’s the disconnect?”</p><p>“That’s different.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“These are strangers, Ann! They don’t - I mean, how could they - they don’t know what I’m like.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“I look like some - I feel womanly and vulnerable and - oh, I don’t know. How I can -” Anne broke off with a shake of her head. “I don’t feel like myself.”</p><p>“That’s the second time you’ve said ‘womanly.’ What’s that about?”</p><p>“Don’t play therapist with me, Ann.” She was starting to get a headache from clenching her jaw so tightly. “I’m not in the mood.”</p><p>“Then leave!” Ann’s exasperated tone turned her head. “God, Anne, if you’re having such a miserable time, just go.”</p><p>“That’s not - I’m just - I don’t like it.”</p><p>“So talk to me about it or leave,” her wife said firmly. </p><p>Anne sighed. Ann was right - of course. She could just leave. She could wait in the bar or at the apartment. Leaving would be easy, but she couldn’t muster the courage, somehow. Recrossing her legs, she turned to face Ann.</p><p>“I’m just a little uncomfortable. Short robe. These girly slippers. No pants, no - nothing at all.”</p><p>“You’re very interesting, darling.” Ann leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “Why do you have such a problem with femininity?”</p><p>“I don’t have a - what?” </p><p>“You don’t like feeling ‘womanly,’ as you say. You have this temper tantrum when you have to wear a robe and a pair of slippers.” Anne bit her bottom lip to prevent it from jutting out into a pout. “What is it about womanhood that makes you so uncomfortable?”</p><p>“It’s - I don’t know! Who made you my analyst?”</p><p>“Nobody, Pony,” Ann smiled and turned to face her, “but you have these hang-ups. About how you’re perceived. Very rigid ideas of gender, even when you don’t adhere to them. It’s interesting. You fascinate me.” Ann took her hand. “I think you knew that, though.” She kissed the back of it. “We can leave if you want. Really. But I do think you’d enjoy it. You could use a little tension relief.”</p><p>Sighing, Anne willed her muscles to relax. Her jaw to unclench. Her arms to unfold. She couldn’t uncross her legs for fear of flashing any passersby, but she tried to hold her legs together a little more loosely. At least, not so tight. She tried to think logically. Did she actually want to leave? On a gut level, yes. Ann kissed the back of her hand again. Then again, she didn’t want to disappoint Ann. </p><p>“I think.” She swallowed. “I think I want to stay.”</p><p>“Okay,” Ann said gently.</p><p>Then two young men appeared, and they were ushered to a dim room with two massage tables. At least they wouldn’t be separated. The masseuses were conventionally handsome, Anne supposed, but she had tensed as soon as she saw them. Men? Touch her? On her bare back and her legs and - they wouldn’t touch her bum, would they? Surely that wasn’t-</p><p>“<i>Veuillez bien vous déshabiller et vous allonger</i>,” one of them said.</p><p>“<i>Déshabiller?</i>” Anne asked, her voice squeaking over the word. Surely there were slips or long shirts or a tiny pair of pants  - good heavens, <i>something</i> they would put on instead of the robes.</p><p>“<i>Très bien, nous serons de retour dans un instant</i>,” the other one said, leaving them with a placid smile. </p><p>Anne wheeled around to her wife, heart racing in her ears. Inexplicably, Ann was already naked and advancing on her. </p><p>“Pony,” Ann drawled.“You’ve got to take this off.” </p><p>“So you do speak French,” Anne demanded.</p><p>“What? No.” Ann furrowed her brow. “That’s just - that’s just how it’s done. You can’t have any clothes on.”</p><p>Suddenly it was incredibly warm in that tiny, dim room. The walls seemed to close in. Surely this wasn’t - they couldn’t - in front of <i>men</i>.</p><p>“Surely you knew that, Pony,” Ann said gently as she fiddled with the tie around Anne’s waist. “You’ve never - I mean, when you give me a massage, I’m always naked.”</p><p>“That’s different,” she snapped.</p><p>“We can still leave. We can leave any time you want.”</p><p>“No, I - I just didn’t think they would be men. I feel -”</p><p>“If you say weak, I’m going to smack you. Or womanly or vulnerable or any of those silly words.” Ann looked up at her, waiting for her permission. Breathing deeply, Anne nodded, and her wife pulled the tie loose. “You’re Anne Bloody Lister. Those guys are doing their job. Forget they’re even there. Just focus on your body.” She pushed Anne’s rob back from her shoulders. “Your strong, gorgeous, gender-defying body.”</p><p>Anne rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Ann kissed her quickly as she slid the robe all the way off. She spanked Anne crisply. </p><p>“Come on now!” She laughed, hanging Anne’s robe. “Lie down!”</p><p>Getting on that weird little bed, Anne felt more confident than she had since they arrived. She turned her head to face Ann, who was already looking at her. What a strange little person she was, Anne thought. Years of insecurity and therapy and chronic pain wrapped up to become a constant, delightful surprise. She was certainly better at talking through her feelings than Anne was. Perhaps she was right, after all, about Anne’s gendered ideas. Why <i>did</i> she associate femininity with weakness? What was weak about being a woman? What was wrong with being weak? </p><p>The door opened, and Ann winked at her. Anne tensed, waiting for the first uncomfortable touch of a stranger’s hand to her bare skin.</p><p>It never came.</p><p>Not an uncomfortable touch, that is.</p><p>Whoever this bloke was, he was incredible at his job. His broad, warm hands released tension Anne wasn’t even aware she’d been holding. She felt muscles relax that she didn’t even realize she had; she’d seen them in anatomy books, but never actually felt them loosen and unknot as she did now. Next to her, Ann was mumbling happily, rather like the way she sounded before she came. If Anne hadn’t been floating on the soft cloud of this masseuse’s touch, she would’ve been jealous. For now, she had no negative feelings at all. Perhaps she never would again. </p><p>She certainly didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep. </p><p>Not until Ann pinched her on the back of the neck. </p><p>Mumbling, she roused herself, finding Ann slipping her robe over her shoulders and shaking her head. </p><p>“Have a nice time, Pony?”</p><p>“Good Lord, yes.” She sat up, unable to believe how loose and energized she felt. “Have they gone?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ann laughed, playfully throwing Anne’s robe to her, “and I have no idea what they said to us. I guess they could be coming back to murder us. All I managed was ‘<i>merci</i>.’” </p><p>“Sorry,” Anne said, only half meaning it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so relaxed. At least, without some sweaty, gasp woman below her. “Adney, thank you.”</p><p>“What?” </p><p>Anne took her by the waist as they padded back to the changing room where they’d hung their clothes. She kissed her lightly on the top of her head.</p><p>“Thank you. For making me stay. Getting me to think about myself in a different way. You’re like a bloody magician.”</p><p>Ann grinned as she shucked her robe and stepped into her underwear. For a moment, Anne considered shagging her right there, but she couldn’t even get worked up in that way. Not right now. She was perfectly even-keeled. Instead, she settled for watching her dress. The way Ann rolled up her thick stockings (“it’s cold, Pony!), the way she stepped into her dress, then turned around expectantly for Anne to zip it. Dipping her head, she pressed her lips to the nape of Ann’s neck. </p><p>“Pony,” Ann warned, “not here.”</p><p>“Fine.” She bit down lightly on Ann’s jugular, smoothing the spot over with her tongue before pulling away. “What shall we do next, darling? Our reservations aren’t until eight.”</p><p>It was early in the afternoon, and they had a long night ahead. Anne had made plans for them to eat at the Eiffel Tower, then they’d watch the fireworks at the Champs-Elysées. It shaped up to be perfectly romantic, but Anne worried about overdoing it. She smiled as Ann looped her tie around her neck; she’d gotten so good at this, even if it drove Anne mad, having her wife so close and only being able to watch her concentrated little face. </p><p>“There’s a bar here, isn’t there?”</p><p>“Yes.” Anne put her hands on her wife’s hips, liking the way this was going. </p><p>“Can we have a drink? I know it’s early, but we are on holiday, aren’t we?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>Anne kissed her softly, and they were off. The bar was sparsely populated, considering how early it was, and they found a little corner of a retro pink sofa to claim. After perusing the menu, Ann sent her to the bar for their drinks. Returning, however, she nearly dropped both glasses. Hovering over her innocent, too-kind wife was a stranger. A male stranger, with too-gelled hair and a tailored suit and one of those beards that seemed to be <i>so</i> trendy these days. He was looming over her, one knee on the seat, his hand on the back of the sofa. She noted his dirty fingernails and cleared her throat loudly.</p><p>“Hi!” Ann said brightly. “This is - uh, Eric, right - he’s American! Isn’t that fun?”</p><p>“No,” she answered flatly, setting the sweating drinks on the table in front of her wife. “Can we help you with something, Eric?” </p><p>She said his name like it tasted bad, which, actually, it did. Ann shot her a look.</p><p>“What are two lovely ladies such as yourselves doing alone?” His accent was so grating, so nasally and ridiculous. Anne felt her hackles rising. “Surely you need some company.”</p><p>“Guess what. We don’t.” She advanced on him. He was an inch taller than her, but he started to slouch as she closed in. “Get lost.”</p><p>Raising his palms in surrender, he edged out of their view. Anne flopped down next to her wife and took a hearty sip of the ridiculously expensive cocktail Ann had chosen. She tilted her head appreciatively; it was surprisingly good. Ann started laughing next to her. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You’re the most incredible person.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“First of all, that was very rude.”</p><p>“He was flirting with you,” Anne said dryly. “I get to be rude to any person who tries to flirt with my woman.”</p><p>“I’m sure.” Ann smiled and leaned over to fiddle with her tie. “And then you just -” she exhaled sharply, “you sent him packing.”</p><p>“Again,” she shrugged, “he was trying to flirt with my woman.”</p><p>“What if he had been violent? Or gotten upset?” Ann tugged at her tie, forcing Anne to meet her eyes. Ann had that look on, the one somewhere between worry and arousal. Interesting. “You should be careful, Pony.”</p><p>“I sized him up.” She shrugged again. “Anybody who takes that much time with their appearance is not going to deck me. Wouldn’t want to get his suit dirty. He probably thinks he’s an ally or something.”</p><p>“Like I said,” Ann grinned, “you’re incredible.”</p><p>“Years of practice, Miss Walker. Now, are you going to drink that or not? I nearly had to give them an arm and a leg for it. Which, of course, I would’ve done for you, my love, but I think you’d miss my arm.” </p><p>Anne laid her hand on Ann’s knee and winked. With a soft whine, Ann bit her lip. </p><p>“Can we go?”</p><p>“What?” Anne sobered suddenly, searching her wife’s face. What had bothered her? What had Anne missed? “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“You’re so sexy,” Ann whispered. “When you’re jealous and commanding and - fuck, you’ve got your legs crossed like that.” Anne looked down; her right ankle laid casually over her left knee. “Can we go?”</p><p>Ah, that was it. Poor Ann, she thought, so easily aroused. With a wink, Anne stood and took her wife’s hand. Ann’s skin was impossibly warm against her own; perhaps she wasn’t the only one easily aroused. They hustled out to the sidewalk, bracing against the cold and blinking in the bright light. Ann tugged her toward the apartment. </p><p>“Did I see an alley?” She breathed.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I just - I thought there was kind of - a weird little alley on the way here. Was that right?”</p><p>“Yes,” Anne nodded, remembering the dark alcove they’d passed. “Why?”</p><p>“Pony!” Ann groaned, tugging her down into the alley. “Fuck me.”</p><p>“What!” She looked around - they were certainly shielded from the sidewalk, with the way the street curved. The sun was nearly setting, it being late afternoon and winter. It wasn’t as public as it <i>could</i> be. But good heavens, they were practically on the street! “Ann, you can’t be serious.”</p><p>“Come on, Pony.” Ann pulled her close by the front of her coat. “Think about that slimy American. Flirting with your woman.” Ann’s voice had turned husky, sensual. “Right here on the street, Pony. You can tear my stockings. I won’t even be upset.” Anne chuckled breathlessly. “And then,” she rolled her hips up into Anne’s, “I’ll take you home,” again - more insistently, “and lick you clean.” </p><p>“Adney.” Anne’s voice was a mixture of desperate and surprise and intense arousal. She leaned down, ghosting her lips over Ann’s. “Are you sure?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Who could resist a proposition like that? Anne certainly couldn’t. She pressed firmly into her wife, crashing their lips together and surrounding her with her coat. At the least, any nosy passersby wouldn’t see <i>everything</i>. She ran her hand up Ann’s thigh, under the hem of her skirt, rubbing gently at the apex of her thighs. Her hands were certain to be cold, she figured; what better way to warm them up?</p><p>“Pony,” Ann breathed, burying her face in Anne’s shirt. “Oh, fuck.”</p><p>“Already?” She grinned, fiddling with Ann’s stockings. Despite her best efforts, the bloody things wouldn’t tear. “Fuck, Ann, what are these made of?”</p><p>“Pony!” She whined, pressing her hips insistently up into Anne’s hand. “Come on!”</p><p>Anne looked over her shoulder furtively. They were okay. Nobody was walking past. Nobody was likely to look down the dank alley anyway. She snaked her hand up Ann’s belly and, finally, below the waistband of her tights. They both hissed as her fingers found Ann’s center. </p><p>“So wet, Adney,” she purred, stroking her clit quickly; they didn’t exactly have the luxury of time, did they? “All for me?” Ann keened, nodding her head into Anne’s shirt. “Dirty, dirty girl. Wanting me to take you,” she thrust inside, grinning as she felt Ann’s sharp teeth close around her clavicle, “in the street.”</p><p>She could tell Ann was trying to be quiet, and the tiny, muffled sounds were driving her crazy. She pumped her fingers hard, finding Ann’s clit with every rough stroke. It was intoxicating, fucking her wife like this. In an alley in Paris on New Year’s Eve. The stuff of fantasies. With one last look over her shoulder, she dipped her head to catch Ann’s lips, swallowing her desperate cries. It didn’t take long. With just a few desperate, sloppy kisses, a handful of sharp ruts of her hips, and a half-dozen more thrusts, Ann was bucking her own hips, stretching taut against her, a broken cry dying on her lips. </p><p>“Got what you wanted?” Anne husked as she pulled her hand away and wiped it surreptitiously only the hip of Ann’s stockings. Ann nodded, still panting and steadying herself with a tight grip on Anne’s elbows. “Alright, my dirty girl, let’s go home.”</p><p>She felt like she was flying the whole way. Sure, it was only a few minutes walk and a short ride in the lift, but it felt like nothing at all. With Ann’s hand in hers, that blonde head bouncing ahead of her, her smiling face turning back and urging her on - “walk <i>faster</i>, Pony!” - she could’ve walked five hundred miles. And then five hundred more.</p><p>The moment the door to the apartment closed behind them, Ann was tearing at her clothes. She did that thing - that intensely arousing thing - where she ripped Anne’s shirt open with the tie still loosely tied around her neck. Anne could only chuckle and loosen her tie herself as her wife fumbled with her belt, the button of her trousers, the zipper. </p><p>“Anne Lister,” she purred once Anne was down to her underwear, “I cannot believe how sexy you are. Don’t laugh - don’t do that. Your body.” Ann ran her hands down her shoulders, along her sides, into her boxer-briefs to cup her ass. “It’s fucking amazing.” </p><p>Ann pulled her toward the stairs, pushing down on her shoulders and leaping into her arms; laughing, Anne scooped her up, groaning as the center of Ann’s still-wet stockings pressed against her stomach. Ann kissed her sloppily, and it was good - it was amazing - it was everything - but Anne couldn’t focus on the stairs. She broke away with a pant, maneuvering carefully up to the loft. </p><p>“You can say you’re masculine or you’re feminine.” Ann dragged her tongue up the column of her neck, sending a shiver down Anne’s spine. “But it doesn’t matter, Pony. You can use whatever word you want.” Anne dropped her onto the bed, and Ann giggled and tugged her down by the waistband of her shorts. “As long as you also use the word ‘mine.’ Or ‘yours,’ you know if you’re talking to me - or, I guess ‘Ann’s’ if you’re-”</p><p>Groaning playfully, Anne leaned down to kiss her. Her head was swimming; she couldn’t process all of it. Ann’s words and her maddening hands and the way she was rolling Anne over and tugging off her boxers. </p><p>“Take it off,” she husked.</p><p>“What?” Ann paused, kneeling between Anne’s legs.</p><p>“Take off - uh, take off your dress. Your stockings. I want to see you.”</p><p>“Haven’t you seen enough, Pony?” Ann teased as she stood and unzipped her dress. Only a tiny part of Anne’s brain registered that Ann could do that for herself, despite her daily protests that she needed Anne’s help. The majority of Anne’s brain, however, was focused on the creamy skin being revealed, the dark tights rolling down lithe legs, the bra and panties sinking to the floor. “You too, my love.”</p><p>Without thinking, Anne sat up to twist out of her bra and pull Ann to her. She hissed as their naked bodies collided. They kissed slowly for a long moment, Ann’s hands in her hair, on her neck, running along her shoulders. Anne couldn’t get enough of her soft skin; she could only pull her closer and closer. </p><p>“See?” Ann smiled as she pulled away, scooting down to settle on her belly between Anne’s legs. “You’re powerful even when you’re naked.”</p><p>Opening her mouth, Anne found she had no response. Leave it to Ann Walker to bring their entire day together with a few movements and a simple sentence. She could always put everything in perspective, couldn’t she? Incredible - that’s the word Ann had used to describe her back at The Sinner, wasn’t it? It fit more aptly for the delicate creature kissing the insides of her thighs, spreading her legs wider, and leaning in to devour her whole. </p><p>“Adney,” she moaned at the first swipe to her clit. “Oh, fuck.”</p><p>She could feel Ann’s cheeks spread in a grin as she set about her frenzied worship of Anne’s core. She was endlessly enthusiastic in her ministrations. Her hands cupped Anne’s hips, running up and down her sides as her head tilted and her tongue curled. There was nothing quite so special as being consumed by Ann Walker when she got like this - she was greedy and impatient and sloppy. Usually, Anne was content to enjoy the slow, uneven build, but today she was too desperate. She had to reach between her legs to steady Ann’s head and hold her in place; she rolled her hips gently, crying out as Ann took her clit between her lips.</p><p>“Just there, baby, I - oh, fuck, Ann, yes, that’ s- yes, yes, baby, fuck, yes.” Her voice sounded hoarse to her own ears, even as she felt that sublime pleasure shooting up her spine. Warmth suffused her body as her hips jerked and she trembled through her climax. With a sigh, she released Ann’s head, flopping back against the sheets. “Oh, fuck, Adney.”</p><p>“Yeah, you said that,” Ann grinned, pressing her lips to her still-quivering belly before crawling up to hover over her face. “You’re so sexy.” Their lips met in a deep kiss; Anne hummed at the taste of her arousal on her wife’s tongue. Ann broke away with a soft smile, “can we take a nap?”</p><p>“What?” Anne laughed. She’d expected Ann to want to go again. Perhaps again and again all afternoon. She put the back of her hand against Ann’s forehead, as if testing her temperature. “Are you feeling alright?”</p><p>“Yes,” Ann rolled her eyes and smacked her belly lightly. “We’ll be up late tonight, won’t we?”</p><p>They snuggled under the covers, drifting away in the warm, slick tangle of limbs. By the time Anne woke, the sun had set. Checking her watch, she jolted upright. 5:29. She snuck down the stairs to the bathroom, showered quickly, and gently shook Ann awake.</p><p>“Come on, lazybones,” she teased. “Better get up.”</p><p>“Anne,” her wife whined, pulling the covers more tightly around her body, “you used to wake me up so sweetly. Touching on my face and whispering in my ear. Now it’s ‘get up already!’” </p><p>“Let me try again,” Anne laughed.</p><p>Ann nodded in agreement, closing her eyes. Anne lowered herself gently next to her, running a single finger along her cheek and stroking the hair around her temple. She pressed her lips to Ann’s forehead then whispered softly in her ear. </p><p>“Come on, lazybones. Better get up.”</p><p>Ann sat up, laughing and smacking her playfully on the arms. Anne caught her hands and leaned her back, pinning them above her head and kissing her soundly. When Ann arched up and tried to press her breasts into Anne’s, she pulled away. Ann sighed in frustration.</p><p>“No time, Miss Walker. Go on.”</p><p>Anne heard her wife groan, trot down the stairs, and turn on the shower. She pulled on her brown tweed slacks, a white collared shirt, and a dark green jumper. Ann would likely critique the whole thing as soon as she got out of the bath, but it was worth a shot. Downstairs, she opened the wine she’d bought the night before and poured them each a glass. Sitting on the window ledge, she flicked open her journal and lost herself in the cathartic catching up. She’d nearly finished when Ann’s damp body pressed into her shoulder.</p><p>“You smell good,” she murmured as Ann’s lips found her cheek. </p><p>“These trousers?” Ann sucked her teeth. </p><p>“I knew it,” she chuckled ruefully. “I knew you’d make me change.”</p><p>“No, no, Pony, you can wear that,” she lied. “It’s - yeah, it’s fine.”</p><p>“Never go into acting, my love,” Anne laughed as she stood up. “I’ll follow you.”</p><p>In the loft, Ann put grey trousers on the bed, patting them with a smile. Anne changed and went back downstairs, knowing they’d never make the reservation if she kept staring at her wife’s naked body. She cracked the window on the first floor and lit a cigarette. Otherwise, she thought she might cry. How ridiculous, she thought, to cry from happiness. What a silly thing, the human brain. To be in Paris with the woman she loved on New Year’s Eve - she’d had this dream a million times. Here it was and it was better than she could’ve imagined. No sense crying over fulfilled fantasies.</p><p>The fast beat of a pop song filled the apartment. Sometimes Ann liked to play music when she got dressed; it always made Anne feel a bit old and out-of-touch, because she never knew the songs. After a few minutes of staring out the window and listening to Ann’s tuneless singing, she felt a warm body press against her back and a sharp chin dig into her shoulder. Ann sang in her ear:</p><p>“<i>Baby, all I want is to let it go<br/>Ain't no worries, oh<br/>We can dance all night</i>”</p><p>Anne couldn’t help laughing as Ann pressed harder into her, wrapping her arms around her waist and grinding her hips into Anne’s ass. Her breath was hot against Anne’s neck as she continued.</p><p>“<i>Get me bodied<br/>That means come closer to me<br/>While we grind to the beat<br/>And your body's touching my body</i>”</p><p>Anne laughed, turning in her arms and taking Ann’s face in her hands. For a moment she just stared at her, trying to memorize every detail of this moment. Ann’s dark blue, impossibly soft, long-sleeved dress. The perfect tousle of blonde curls around her face. The chilly breeze from the cracked window. The faint smell of smoke. The vibrations of the bass. The warmth of Ann’s skin in her hands. Even with her photographic memory and page after page of rambling in her journal, she wasn’t sure she could ever capture this sensation. Clothes or not, brown trousers or grey, feminine or masculine or some variation, it didn’t matter; Ann Walker made her feel strong and soft and everything in between.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>Get Me Bodied + body issues? Right? That’s a good pun? No? Okay.</p><p>Massive thanks to ReleaseTheSheep for the French in this chapter! <br/><i>Veuillez bien vous déshabiller et vous allonger</i> = Please undress and lay down<br/><i>Déshabiller?</i> = Undress?<br/><i>Très bien, nous serons de retour dans un instant</i> = Very good, we'll be back in a moment</p><p>A few of y’all had mentioned Anne’s sometimes hypocritical ideas about gender and her body, so here’s a bit more exploration. Not sure we can really wrap something like that up, maybe not ever but certainly not in less than 5,000 words of smutty fanfic. </p><p>Thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Do You Know What Time It Is?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Logistics are fluid, and I’ve never been to Paris. <br/>This might be a good one to extend a bit of realistic disbelief for the sake of the story.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Can we go up to the top?” She asked Anne as they enjoyed their after-dinner drinks. This restaurant within the Eiffel Tower was excellent and terribly expensive; Ann felt warm all over from the meal, the atmosphere, the company. “After this?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>And then she smiled - that bright and gentle smile that Ann only ever saw directed at her. She was effortlessly handsome in that thick green jumper and her hair tied back, one hand twirling her whisky in its glass. Smirking, she reached over to snag a forkful of Ann’s chocolate cake.</p><p>“Anne!”</p><p>“What’s mine is yours, darling,” she grinned, her mouth full, “so conversely…”</p><p>“You’re so annoying,” Ann giggled. “What is the plan tonight?”</p><p>“Well, apparently we’re going up the Tower. Then we can go to a bar or a club or whatever you like. Eventually, we should go to the Champs-Elysées. I’d like to kiss you at midnight in the cold Parisian air.”</p><p>Ann couldn’t contain the shiver traveling up her spine at Anne’s French accent, her soft tone, the low fire in her eyes. Soon enough, they were waiting for the lift, and Ann focused on the warmth of Anne’s hand in hers. It would take effort for her to stay calm tonight, with the crowds and the unfamiliar area, but she was determined. There was no way she was going to let her anxiety get into the way of the most romantic night of her life.</p><p>“You look incredible,” Anne whispered in her ear. A smooth hand slipped along her lower back. Ann was grateful they’d left their coats at the restaurant coat check. “You’re the most beautiful woman in Paris.”</p><p>Ann could only giggle and blush. She held her wife’s hand tightly as they squeezed into the elevator; it made no sense to be nervous around these people or even of the height, but Ann had always been a champion at worrying. They poured out of the lift, and Ann’s chest tightened. </p><p>“It’s incredible,” she whispered, eyes widening to soak up as much of the city below as possible. “Anne, oh my God. It’s like...I can’t even- wow.”</p><p>“I know,” Anne said softly over her shoulder.</p><p>For long moments, Ann could only stare. Stare and marvel and breathe. It seemed impossible for this city to even exist. For it to be only one city in the entire world. Surely, this was it; this was everything. How could there be anything else? Why would anyone bother? Who would waste time building or creating when Paris already existed?</p><p>“Turn around,” her wife’s low voice husked in her ear. Ann complied, turning slowly to look up at Anne’s handsome face and tilting her chin. For a beat, they were the only people in the room, in the city, in the entire world. Anne traced a knuckle down Ann’s jaw before taking her chin between her thumb and forefinger. “I love you.”</p><p>The intensity of the moment overwhlemed her. The depth of Anne’s dark eyes and the warmth of her strong body and the soft murmur of dozens of languages around them. Ann could only tilt her chin and accept the soft press of Anne’s lips against her own. When they separated, she found she couldn’t breathe. Whether it was the kiss or the atmosphere or the sheer incredible truth that her life had never been better, she couldn’t know. All she could do was smile softly at Anne Lister, the woman who’d turned her world inside out, and giggle as Anne pulled her toward the lifts. They managed to squeeeze into one just as it was leaving, pressed up against other tourists and chattering couples. Anne leaned against her back and breathed in her ear.</p><p>“I wish we were alone.” Her husky voice was so low that Ann almost missed it. “I should like to make love to you right here. For all of Paris to see. Bend you over right against the glass and-”</p><p>Ann gasped as she stumbled out onto the second floor. Her wife chuckled mischievously and strode toward the coat check. Ann had barely regained her sanity by the time Anne held out her coat for her; it was a bit thin, this grey peacoat, but Ann liked how it looked with her dress better than her thicker, puffier one. Anne was drool-worthy, as usual, in that maddening greatcoat. </p><p>“Let’s take the stairs, hmm?” Anne looped her arm through Ann’s. “Less waiting.”</p><p>“Alright, Daddy,” Ann said without thinking, patting her wife’s strong arm. Anne’s step faltered.</p><p>“It’s like that is it?” Anne teased, though she sounded a bit out of breath. “Why don’t we go home right now?”</p><p>“Not yet,” she laughed, “can we go to a bar? Or - oh, or a club? Could we?”</p><p>“Do you, um -” Ann could tell she was choosing her words carefully, “do you think that’s a good idea?”</p><p>They hadn’t been to a club since that ill-fated night with Catherine, but Ann wanted to try again. Perhaps this would be a good experiment. Anne’s arms around her, loud music shaking the walls, the crush of Parisians? Ann’s heart raced at the thought, but in a good way.</p><p>“Are you sure, Adney?”</p><p>“Yes. Can we try?”</p><p>“Well,” Anne looked at her watch, “just for a few minutes. It’s already after ten.”</p><p>“Yes!” Ann clapped her hands together. “Fifteen minutes.” Anne’s face remained unchanged; Ann slid a hand in the pocket of her trousers, tripping her fingers down her wife’s strong thigh. “Please, Daddy?”</p><p>“You’re impossible,” Anne chuckled, but Ann could feel her hips twitch as she pulled her hand away. “We’ll have to go quickly.”</p><p>In a whirlwind of rushing and Anne barking in French, Ann found herself turning over her coat for the second time that night. She wasn’t sure what Anne had said to the bouncer, but somehow they were back near the apartment, skipping the line, and descending into a pit of dancing strangers. Anne held her fast by the waist, leaning down to whisper in Ann’s ear.</p><p>“Feeling okay?” Ann nodded, focusing on steadying her breathing. “We can go to the Champs-Elysées whenever you’re ready.”</p><p>“Just a few minutes,” Ann said resolutely. “Fifteen?”</p><p>“I’ll set a timer.” Anne winked. </p><p>“Do it.” </p><p>Ann curled her hand around Anne’s wrist. A timer would give her a definite out. An exit strategy. Anne nodded and fiddled with her watch. Looking up, she grinned and led Ann to the dancefloor. Ann draped her arms around her wife’s neck, melding their bodies together and locking their hips in a slow grind. It was easy, at first, to lose herself to the beat of the music and the warm press of Anne’s body. </p><p>“How’d you do it, Daddy?” She ran her fingers up into her low ponytail. “You take such good care of me.”</p><p>Anne grinned as she dipped her head to catch her lips. For a few songs, it was heaven. Anne’s firm body surrounding her. Her soft lips sliding against her own. Her nimble tongue exploring and probing. Strong hands cupped her behind, and Ann felt breathless. Was there anything hotter than this?</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck, Adney, I want you so much.”</p><p>Ann nodded, trying to mask her racing heart. Was it the music? Anne’s strong arms? The sweaty press of strangers all around her? She tugged Anne down for another kiss. When they parted, she somehow felt worse. More on edge. Perhaps it was just the heat between them. Ann turned to press her back against Anne’s front; it made her feel a bit better, more protected. </p><p>“You’re so hot,” Anne breathed in her ear before sucking at her neck. Ann moaned breathlessly, trailing one hand up to the back of Anne’s strong neck. With the other, she held Anne’s forearm, twisting her wrist just a bit to see the timer. 4:13. She could handle four minutes and thirteen seconds. Twelve. Eleven. “Do you want to leave?”</p><p>Ann shook her head. She could handle fifteen minutes in a nightclub. She was thirty fucking years old, and she had Anne Lister protecting her. She could manage this. It was important to her to follow through with this. Before Anne, she rarely left her house at all. Agoraphobia, that’s what her therapist had said a few years ago. Ann had believed it, and that had only cemented her fears. Then Anne came round, with her strong hands and brilliant smile and ability to inspire bravery, and she wasn’t so afraid anymore. Most days, she didn’t think twice about going out in public, and that, in itself, was a victory. She was proud of herself. </p><p>And yet.</p><p>There were still things she struggled with, large crowds being one. She was working on it: every Sunday afternoon with her therapist and in moments like this. Times when she could stretch her boundaries with Anne by her side; logically, she knew she was safe, despite the queasiness in her stomach. She checked the watch again: 3:12. </p><p>“Come here.” Anne pulled her back toward one of the mirrored walls, nudging people left and right until she could spin Ann around and press her into the wall. “You’re so fucking hot, Adney. I feel like I’m going to explode.”</p><p>Before she could speak a single word, Anne was crashing their lips together. Her hands were everywhere, in Ann’s hair and on her hips and trailing hungrily over her breasts. Ann arched up into her, wrapping her arms around Anne’s back. Before she knew what was happening, Anne was pulling away, grinning smugly and holding up her wrist. The tiny face of her watch shook as it read “Timer Done.”</p><p>With a sigh of relief, Ann sagged back against the wall. She’d done it. They could leave. Anne took her hand and led her back to the front of the club, collected their coats, and pulled Ann out into the chilly evening. </p><p>“You did very well, darling.” Anne wrapped her in her arms and kissed the top of her head. “Are you pleased?”</p><p>“I am,” Ann smiled into her chest. “Thank you.”</p><p>“Alright, so what next? Do you want to go home? Do you want to go to the Champs-Elysées?”</p><p>“Let’s go to the -” Ann paused at the French she knew she would butcher. “Let’s stay out.”</p><p>“Excellent.” Anne grinned. </p><p>Another whirlwind of a taxi and streets and Anne’s hand on her knee. They stepped out about a block from the center of the festivities, and Anne took her hand on the sidewalk. Another crowd. Ann inhaled deeply, clutching her wife’s hand.</p><p>“This is the best spot,” Anne said happily. “Not too tourist-y, plenty of people, the crisp Parisian air. It’s just after eleven now, darling, so we might get a little cold. There are some bars around, though, so we could - Adney?”</p><p>Anne seemed to have noticed Ann’s chattering teeth and pale face. It was chilly, but that’s not why Ann was shaking. She’d powered through the club, but then she’d let her guard down. She hadn’t realized how many people would be at this spot. How loud it would be. How easy it seemed to get lost. Anne pulled her from the middle of the sidewalk, where Ann seemed to have sprouted roots. Cold hands cupped her face and Anne’s concerned eyes came into view. </p><p>“Oh, darling, what is it?”</p><p>Ann shook her head. </p><p>“Do you want to leave?”</p><p>She shook her head again.</p><p>“Can you tell me something? Ann? Anything?”</p><p>Ann couldn’t seem to stop shaking her head. Her words caught in her throat. She wanted to do this, especially since it seemed so very important to Anne, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t go into that crowd. The whole city of Paris seemed to be in that square, with more and more streaming in with every second. Oh, but she couldn’t disappoint Anne either. Not after she’d given up the Louvre today for her, not after she’d gotten that massage despite her own reservations, not after she’d decided to give up all chance at having a normal relationship for Ann. Anne could’ve had Maria or Mary or Tib or any number of other women - all of whom could probably handle a simple crowd. Fuck, why had she used up all her energy on that stupid night club?</p><p>“We’re leaving.” Anne raised her arm in the street for a cab. “Come on, Adney.”</p><p>“No, we -”</p><p>“No, Adney, we’re leaving. Come on.” Ann made a soft sound of protest. “No discussion. Daddy’s got you.”</p><p>Without even thinking, she buried her face in Anne’s coat. It was warm in there. Safe. Woodsy and smelling of home. She was so ashamed and disappointed she barely heard Anne’s sharp instructions to the driver or her soft encouragement in her ear. Before she knew it, they were back in the lift to the apartment, then Anne was leading her inside. </p><p>“Alright, darling? We’re home. We’re safe. Okay?”</p><p>“Anne,” she whined, sitting down heavily at the little dining table, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. We can go back. You should - fuck, you should just -”</p><p>“Stop.” Anne put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, the other on her knee as she crouched in front of her. “Don’t apologize.”</p><p>“No, I - I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I? It’s all - fuck, this whole trip was for - and you were so excited, and - fuck, I just ruined - you should -” when had she started crying? Ann wiped her eyes hurriedly. “You should just be done with me. I’ll never be - I’m always going to be like this.”</p><p>“Ann,” her wife sighed, taking both of her hands and resting her forehead against them. Ann steadied her breathing as Anne shifted to sit at her feet. “Ann, darling, I - I need you to know that I don’t care. I don’t care if you can never leave this apartment or England or even just our bedroom. I don’t care. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and that’s all that matters.”</p><p>“But, I - I -” Ann hiccuped; the tears were nearly gone now, but her breathing was still shaky, “I can’t do any of the things you want to do. We did the thing I wanted - and - and now I can’t - I made you come here and - you should - I bet you wish you were with Maria right now.”</p><p>“Stop that.” Anne’s grip on her hands tightened; her voice turned stern. “Absolutely fucking not. Do you hear me? There is no one and nowhere I want more than you. Right here. Or at Shibden or wherever the hell else. Okay? As long as you’re there.”</p><p>“But the - the Champs-whatever - you wanted to go, and you said it was - that it’s the best, and now we’re - you can go back. You should go - I can just wait here and -”</p><p>“Ann Walker. Are you deaf? I know the music was pretty loud back there, but you act like you haven’t heard me at all.” Ann managed a soft chuckle, and Anne smiled warmly. “I don’t care. I don’t care about being anywhere that isn’t with you. Alright? Do you understand, my deaf little wife?”</p><p>“I understand,” she nodded, wiping the last of her tears. “I feel like - I feel bad, though.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“I pushed you - at the spa, today, and - you didn’t push me at all. I should’ve - I’m a bad partner.”</p><p>“No,” Anne said slowly. “That was different.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“Well, first of all,” Anne raised herself on her knees and pushed Ann’s coat from her shoulders, “I was being a prick. There’s a difference between you encouraging me to try something new,” she slipped Ann’s shoes from her feet, “and me forcing you to do something that’s going to exacerbate your anxiety.” She ran her hands up Ann’s legs to the elastic around her thighs, then cocked her head. “Are you wearing the -” Ann nodded shyly; she’d worn the garter belt for - well, for easier access. Before she’d ruined it all. “Oh, Adney, that’s very sexy.” She reached up to unclip and roll down the stocking around her left leg. “At the night club, that was pushing some boundaries. Or taking that plane or going to Maria’s shop. That’s different than happened tonight. That’s just Daddy,” she unclipped her right stocking, “taking care of you.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Ann said softly, cupping her wife’s cheek. “Really. I can’t believe how good you are to me.”</p><p>“Do you know,” Anne looked at her watch, “if we hurry, we could time it so that you’re coming right at midnight?”</p><p>“What?” Ann sputtered a laugh.</p><p>“I was just thinking,” Anne ran her hands up Ann’s bare thighs, “how nice that would be.” She pressed her lips to Ann’s knee. “To ring in the new year with my wife on my tongue.”</p><p>“Oh, fuck, Pony.”</p><p>“So, that’s a…?”</p><p>“That’s a yes,” Ann giggled.</p><p>Anne lifted her up, kissing her soundly before backing her into the counter. The stress of the evening rolled from Ann’s shoulders. Her wife’s touch was healing, calming, reassuring. They stumbled clumsily up the stairs, all bright laughter and grabbing hands. With a brilliant smile, Anne caught her hips at the top of the stairs, bringing their lips together again and again. Ann was putty in her hands - wasn’t she always?</p><p>“Pony,” she sighed as Anne’s hands slid lower, under the hem of her dress. “Please.”</p><p>“No underwear?” Anne purred, pushing her gently onto the bed. Ann nodded, spreading her legs. “All night? Adney,” she groaned, “I don’t know if I’m glad you didn’t tell me or not.” She flipped the skirt of Ann’s dress up, revealing her wet center. “I might not have made it through dinner.”</p><p>With a needy whine, Ann grabbed the front of her jumper and kissed her hungrily. Anne dropped onto her knees, one hand on Ann’s face, the other trailing up and down her thigh. They broke apart, and Ann scrambled back against the pillows. She clutched at the sheets, watching Anne press her lips to her belly, each hip, the tops of her thighs. </p><p>“Keep your eye on that clock, Mrs. Lister.” Anne nodded to the analog clock on the nightstand. “You make sure I’m kissing you at the stroke of midnight.”</p><p>Ann nodded frantically, biting her bottom lip. She wasn’t sure how much more of this teasing she could take. Her eyes wide, she watched as that devilish smirk disappeared between her legs. A wanton cry escaped her as Anne dragged her tongue across her center. It was all sensation from then on - electricity between her legs, Anne’s soft hair between her fingers, a single bead of sweat rolling down her back, the cool sheets getting warmer, a strong hand gripping her hip, another tracing figureless shapes up and down her thigh. At first she closed her eyes, lost to the ecstasy of Anne’s mouth. Then it stopped. Her eyes shot open.</p><p>“Keep your eyes open, Adney. I can’t mind the time and do what I’m doing. Give me a little tug at five ‘til, hmmm?”</p><p>“Fuck, Pony.”</p><p>It was all she could manage - had anyone ever been so intensely arousing? So practical and exhilarating and possessive? Ann forced her eyes to stay open, trained on her wife’s head bobbing between her thighs, shooting occasional glances at that bloody clock. Anne was keeping her at the edge - darting her tongue inside just for a moment, flicking her clit just a little too lightly, keeping the pressure constant and incredible and not nearly fucking enough.</p><p>“Anne, please.”</p><p>“What time is it?” Anne’s breath was hot against her core; Ann could barely form the words.</p><p>“11:55.”</p><p>“Oh good.”</p><p>And then she was gone. Ann could only hold on for dear life. She fisted one hand in the sheets, the other tangling in her wife’s hair. Her hips strained against Anne’s hand, but she was powerless. In just a moment, she was stretching taut, mumbling incoherently as Anne finally, finally gave her what she needed. When the last wave receded, she collapsed back into the sheets, panting at the ceiling as she felt her wife’s soft lips press to her belly, her sternum, her chin. </p><p>“Almost time,” Anne breathed.</p><p>Ann opened her eyes to find her ridiculous wife hovering over her with her head turned to the side, her eyes trained on the clock. 11:59. The second hand ran past the nine, the ten, the eleven, then Anne was kissing her. One of those deep, slow kisses. Ann could taste her arousal on Anne’s lips and tongue; she could feel it on Anne’s skin under her fingertips. Their hips rolled together for a moment, and then Anne pulled away, licking her lips. </p><p>“Happy New Year, baby.”</p><p>“Happy New Year, darling,” Ann whispered, tucking a strand of Anne’s dark hair behind her ear. “I love you so much.”</p><p>“And I love you.”</p><p>Anne kissed her again, a bit more urgently this time, and Ann decided this was as good a time as any. She broke away, sitting up and undoing Anne’s trousers. </p><p>“You know what I’m thinking of?” She slipped her hand between them; Anne, up on her knees, closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m thinking of you getting your cock,” she traced gentle circles over Anne’s clit, “and fucking me senseless.” Anne exhaled sharply, nodding and moving her hips in rhythm with Ann’s hand. “Bending me over.” She reached around and took a handful of Anne’s ass. “Spanking me.” Anne whined. “Getting me to scream your name.” She sped up, strumming Anne’s clit faster. “Does that sound good, Daddy?”</p><p>“Fuck, Ann, yes.”</p><p>“You make me feel so brave.” Ann kissed the hollow of her throat. “Do you know that?” Anne nodded quickly; Ann grinned - she was so close. “I can’t believe I’m here. With you. In Paris. On New Year’s. Making love to you, my darling.”</p><p>Anne’s hips bucked, and she fell forward against Ann. She shook against her for a few beats, then she sighed and sat back on her heels. Anne smiled, her eyes half-lidded, and wrapped one hand behind Ann’s neck. Their lips met sloppily for a long moment. </p><p>“Fuck, Adney. Good Lord.”</p><p>Ann smiled proudly. It always felt special to break Anne apart like that. Catching her eye, Anne shook her head, kissed her quickly, and scrambled off the bed.</p><p>“You don’t have to look so bloody pleased with yourself,” she chuckled, shucking her trousers. </p><p>“I just love to be that person. Your person. It feels so important. Special.” Ann stood and pulled her dress off. “So, yeah, I am pleased with myself.”</p><p>“I can tell.” Anne grinned and took her by the waist; down to their underwear, the heat radiating between them seemed to burn a little brighter. “Did you mean it?”</p><p>“Mean what?” Ann slid her hands under Anne’s undershirt. </p><p>“Bending you over.” Anne unclasped her bra. “Screaming my name.”</p><p>“Every word.”</p><p>Growling playfully, Anne slid down her panties and kissed her fiercely. Ann found herself bouncing on the mattress again, giggling as Anne tore off the last of her clothes and reached for the strap. This was a special moment too; there was an intimacy to it, that practicality again. Ann bit her lip.</p><p>“I love this. I love you.”</p><p>“What?” Anne looked up from the buckles. </p><p>“It’s so - like, you’re so matter-of-fact. Just putting - you know, putting your cock on. To fuck me with it. It’s - gosh, I don’t know.” </p><p>“You’re cute,” Anne grinned, picking up one of those bottles Maria had sold them. “Now come here.”</p><p>Ann scrambled to the edge of the bed, turning to face the headboard on her hands and knees. Her feet hooked over the edge. She trembled in anticipation, pushing her hips back. How long would Anne keep her waiting? </p><p>“Oh, Adney,” Anne ran a hand over her behind, “you’re so fucking hot.” Ann inhaled as she felt Anne’s hand pull away; she exhaled a moan as that hand felt crisply across her ass. “That’s it, baby.” Ann pushed her hips back, desperate for another. Anne complied. “God, you make me so hot, Ann Walker.”</p><p>“Daddy,” she moaned. “Fuck me.”</p><p>“I’ve never,” Anne stroked between her folds, her fingers already wet with lubricant, “heard three little words I liked more.” She eased between Ann’s folds, one hand gripping her hip possessively. “Perhaps, ‘I love you.’ Those are good too. ‘I’m yours.’” She stretched Ann with another finger; Ann caught her rhythm, moving her hips gently with Anne’s hand. “Sometimes, when you sleep, you say the sweetest things.” She slipped another finger inside; Ann couldn’t help gasping. Anne certainly wasn’t taking her time tonight. “One time it was ‘she’s my Pony.’ Sometimes it’s ‘thank you, Anne.’ Last week you said,” Anne paused, thrusting forward sharply as she continued: “‘do it harder’”.  Anne spanked her once more. “Three words, Adney.” Again. “You can do a lot of things with three words.”</p><p>“Fuck, Daddy, I - fuck, I can’t wait.”</p><p>“I know, darling.” Ann sighed as Anne’s fingers left her, then she hummed in anticipation. She heard a bottle click open, then closed, then she felt the wet head of Anne’s cock glide between her cheeks. “Are you ready?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Not good enough.” Anne pulled away; Ann nearly shivered at the loss of her warm body. “You know what you have to say.”</p><p>“Yes, Daddy.”</p><p>“There she is.”</p><p>Ann could practically hear her wife’s smug smile, but she had no time to dwell on it. Her slick cock was pressing forward, stretching her until, at last, she felt Anne’s hips against her ass. She moaned at the loss as Anne pulled back. For a few long moments, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the wet slide of Anne’s cock easing in and out of her core, Anne’s gentle hums as she worked, her own gasping breath.</p><p>“Now,” Anne paused with just the tip inside, “are you ready? Actually ready, my darling?”</p><p>“Yes, Daddy,” Ann breathed. </p><p>Anne took off. Her hands dug into Ann’s skin; her hips slapped obscenely against her ass. Ann was lost - she could barely focus on keeping herself upright. In the end, she fell forward, one side of her face pressed against the sheets as Anne pumped into her roughly. Her desperate cries ricocheted off the walls; her climax growing intensely in her gut as she became no more than an aching clit, a pair of rutting hips, and two round ass cheeks. Anne was so <i>fucking</i> good at this; Ann couldn’t even cope. Her timing was perfect. Her hands alternated between soft and steadying and sharp and relentless. Her hips were merciless. Her cock? Perfection itself. </p><p>“Daddy,” she moaned, “I need you. Please, Daddy, please.”</p><p>“Please what, baby?” Anne didn’t even falter in her movements, though Ann thought she could detect a bit of breathlessness.</p><p>“Please touch me, Daddy. Please.”</p><p>“I am touching you.” Anne squeezed her hips. </p><p>“Make me come,” Ann cried, desperate. She tried to raise up on her elbows to touch her own clit, but she couldn’t. “I need it, Daddy; I need you.”</p><p>“All you had to do was ask.” </p><p>Ann sighed a moan as her wife’s long, talented fingers found her clit. It took only a few perfectly timed strokes before she was crying out, shaking with the intensity of her release. Anne’s thrusts grew gentler, shallower, slower, until, at last, she pulled out and laid gingerly on the bed next to the sweaty, mumbling heap that used to be Ann Walker. Ann felt a hand trace up and down her spine for a few moments. Eventually, she found the strength to roll onto her side and face the goddess in her bed. </p><p>“Fucking hell, Pony.”</p><p>“I know,” Anne laughed. “Pretty good.”</p><p>“Seriously.” </p><p>Ann tilted her chin, and they kissed slowly. That gentle, sleepy kind of kiss. Anne’s eyes looked ready to close, but Ann wasn’t done. Not yet. She’d had an idea.</p><p>“So, Pony.”</p><p>“So, Adney.”</p><p>“I was wondering,” Ann danced her fingers up her wife’s belly to her sternum, “about a different thing we could try.”</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“It’s a position.”</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>“And I think you’ll like it.”</p><p>“Care to share with the class?” Anne caught her wandering fingers. “Am I supposed to guess?”</p><p>“No!” Ann giggled. “No, I was - it’s - I mean, do I have to say it?”</p><p>“You could show me,” Anne husked.</p><p>“Okay,” Ann breathed, intoxicated by the prospect. “Go, uh, go up to the pillows.”</p><p>“Alright.” </p><p>Anne pulled herself backwards, making her wife drool at the flexing of her biceps. Ann crawled up her body, caught her lips in a deep, searching kiss, biting Anne’s lip as she pulled away. She ran her hands down Anne’s chest, then inhaled to fortify herself. Truthfully, she was a little nervous. She’d never had much leg strength. Still, she was trying new things. The mere thought was making her core ache. She turned around in Anne’s lap, raised herself up on her knees, aligned her center with Anne’s cock as she stared down at the foot of the bed.</p><p>“Oh, fuck,” she heard from behind her.</p><p>Anne’s strong hands gripped her hips and guided her down slowly. They both moaned as Ann sank down until the inside of her thighs met Anne’s hips. Leaning forward, she braced herself on Anne’s strong calves. </p><p>“Seriously, Adney, holy shit.”</p><p>“You like that, Pony?” She lifted up slowly, rolling her hips as she lowered herself back down. “I’ve been thinking - unh, about this for - unh, for a little while.”</p><p>“Have you?” Anne’s breath was hot in her ear, her breasts pressing into Ann’s back - when had she sat up? “You’ve been thinking about this,” her hands cupped Ann’s breasts, “and you never even told me?”</p><p>“I wanted - unh, I - fuck, I wanted to - to surprise you.”</p><p>“You did.” Anne kissed behind her ear, along her neck, across her shoulder. “Fuck, baby, you sure did.”</p><p>Ann couldn’t speak anymore. All she could focus on was the exquisite pleasure of Anne’s cock filling her, the delicious burning in her legs, the sweet pressure of Anne’s hands roaming her chest, her hips, down to the apex of her thighs. She lost herself - who knew how long it was? Anne did, probably, but Ann no longer existed in time and space. It was only pleasure - ecstasy building in her gut and shooting into her legs and skating along her spine. There was only Anne, with her strong hands and wet lips and relentless, pumping hips. Ann came back to Earth only for a moment, when Anne nipped her earlobe.</p><p>“Pass me that bottle.”</p><p>Groaning, Ann leaned forward and rolled the bottle back toward her wife. She whimpered at the loss of her body behind her, but she cried out when she felt Anne push her gently forward, then slide one slick finger between her cheeks. </p><p>“Shall I, Adney?”</p><p>“Yes, yes - fuck, yes.” </p><p>Anne hummed as she worked slowly inside Ann’s puckered hole. Ann couldn’t hold back high-pitched whines, her hips rolling gently. She’d been so close, but this would be better. Balancing herself on Anne’s calves, for a moment she studied Anne’s feet, having that same thought about how far they traveled. What a strange angle, she thought; the angle of Anne’s cock was exquisite, but the view of her bony feet was desperately inferior to her face. </p><p>“Oh, fuck,” she gasped as Anne’s finger slid inside. “It’s worth it.”</p><p>“What?” Anne purred, one hand on her hip leading her in shallow thrusts, the other working in perfect harmony between her cheeks. </p><p>“I was - unh, I was thinking ab-fuck, about, um, about how weird - fuck, Pony, fuck.” Ann felt the first wave of her release crash into her; she bucked her hips harder. Anne’s long fingers found her clit as her powerful hips continued their brutal upward thrusts. “Yes, Pony, fuck, yes, make me - just - fuck, yes.”</p><p>With a scream and a shudder, she came. Fire lapped between her legs to consume her, body and soul. Every cell in her body came alive with the tremendous, unbelievable satisfaction of their love. Wave after wave rolled into her; it was primal and elegant and infinite. She wondered if she would ever drift back to reality. If it was possible to stay in Anne’s arms for eternity. </p><p>“Holy shit,” she groaned, not quite so eloquent in her speech as in her thoughts. Flopping forward, she shivered as Anne’s finger slipped out. Warm hands traced up and down her back. “Oh, Anne, oh, I love you.”</p><p>“Turn around, darling.”</p><p>Ann groaned again.</p><p>“Come on, Adney, I want to kiss you.”</p><p>With a tired groan, Ann forced herself forward, hissing at the loss of the strap. She managed to turn around and fall next to her wife, reaching out lazily for her. Anne kissed her gently, one hand caressing her face, the other working open the buckles of the harness. </p><p>“I don’t think” Anne panted, “I’ve ever been so wet.” </p><p>“No?”</p><p>“Maybe you’d better,” Anne lifted her hips just a fraction, “go check.”</p><p>Shaking her head at her wife’s total shamelessness, Ann crawled down between her legs. Anne was, indeed, almost exceedingly wet. Dipping her head, Ann moaned at the heady scent of her before dragging her tongue through her arousal. Too often, Ann worried that Anne felt shortchanged in their lovemaking. Nine times out of ten, Ann came more than her wife; equal numbers for duration of build-up. Poor Anne, she thought as she lapped gently at her core. She deserved a nice, long one. </p><p>That is exactly what Ann delivered. She lost track of time as she paid tender, slow homage to her wife. This woman who had given her everything. Had changed her life and opened her world and shown her how to be brave. At the same time, Ann thought as she sucked gently on Anne’s clit, she allowed Ann to be afraid; she protected her. Stood up for her. Showed her the meaning of strength and intelligence and dedication. </p><p>“Adney,” Anne whined. “Can I - fuck, can I - please - come?”</p><p>“What?” Ann panted. </p><p>“Are you not teasing me on purpose?” Anne’s eyes were wild, her chest heaving. Ann really had been taking her time. Perhaps too much time.</p><p>“Oh, uh, yes, Pony,” Ann feigned confidence. “Since you asked so nicely.”</p><p>With that, Ann dipped her head again. She ran her tongue along Anne’s folds, gripped her hips, flicked her clit. That’s all it took, and Anne was unraveling. She moaned, deep and long, as her back arched and her fingers clenched around Ann’s head. Ann couldn’t get enough; she worked over Anne’s center, sucking every last drop of pleasure from her until Anne pushed her head back with a groan. </p><p>“Fucking hell, Adney.”</p><p>“You’re amazing,” Ann whispered, kissing her way up her wife’s body. “You’re so - you’re so strong and then I get to just - to just watch you come apart.” She kissed the hollow of Anne’s throat. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”</p><p>Seemingly reenergized, Anne grabbed her face roughly, bringing their lips together. Anne’s mouth was greedy - all insistent lips and searching tongue. She bucked her hips up into Ann’s, rolling them over and pulling back. </p><p>“One more, Adney.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Let me make love to you. And then we’ll go to sleep.”</p><p>“Okay,” Ann said with a soft nod, tracing one hand along her wife’s clavicle. She watched as Anne reached for that small bullet from Maria’s. “What’s that?”</p><p>“It’s a -” Anne seemed startled as she flicked it on, “there we go. It’s a vibrator, darling, what do you think? Shall we give it a go?”</p><p>“What - to do what with it?” </p><p>Ann still felt so foolish with some of these things, but hadn’t they managed well enough with that? She could tell Anne was trying not to laugh, which only made her blush deepen. </p><p>“Well, you see,” Anne set the vibrator down and pushed Ann’s leg toward her chest, “we could do this,” she pressed their cores together, “and come at the same time.”</p><p>“Oh,” Ann breathed, draping her arms over Anne’s neck and pulling her down for a kiss. “Okay. If you - if you think, it’ll work.”</p><p>“I do.” Anne kissed the side of her neck. “I think you’re going to like it.”</p><p>At first, though, they just moved together as they always did. Ann adored when they made love like this. Feeling Anne in this way was just different - special - more intimate. Their connection couldn’t be deeper than this, could it? The only problem, she conceded, was the timing. If this would help then -</p><p>“Oh, fuck!” She cried as Anne slid the vibrator between them. “Holy fuck, Pony.”</p><p>“I know.” Anne’s voice was reverent, her eyes closed as her hips continued to grind against Ann’s. She balanced on one arm, the other holding the bullet between them. “I know, baby, fuck.”</p><p>“I don’t think we’ve ever done it this well-”</p><p>“I know -”</p><p>“It’s like -”</p><p>“Right-”</p><p>“I think I’m gonna-”</p><p>“Me too.”</p><p>And they did. At the same moment, they each cried out - Anne’s a sort of choked moan, Ann’s a high-pitched whine. Their hips juddered against each other as they dove into their release together. The feeling of Anne trembling above her only seemed to make Ann come harder, her back arch more, her hips rut faster. That little bullet - really, Anne hadn’t been kidding when she said she thought Ann would like it. Every time she thought she was returning to her body, she would feel a fresh wave crash into her. </p><p>After an eternity, Ann drifted back to reality; Anne untangled their legs, flicked off the vibrator and tossed it onto the nightstand, then started laughing. Still panting, Ann turned to her in confusion.</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“D’you know what time it is?”</p><p>“No, Pony, I was just having an orgasm.”</p><p>Anne clicked her tongue and rolled onto her side to face her. </p><p>“It’s nearly five o’clock in the morning.”</p><p>“No it’s not!”</p><p>Anne tilted her head toward the clock,and, sure enough, it read just a few minutes before five. Had they really been shagging for <i>five hours</i>?</p><p>“No way,” Ann grinned. ”That’s got to be a record for us.”</p><p>“I think it is,” Anne said seriously, tracing one finger down the side of Ann’s face. “I love you.”</p><p>“I love you.” Ann tilted her chin, and they kissed for just a moment. “I’m sorry about -”</p><p>“Do not apologize, Adney.” Anne was pulling the covers over their sweaty bodies. “I’m not sorry for anything. This is better than anything I could have imagined. Okay?” Ann nodded. “Good. Now we’re going to sleep for just a little while.” Anne set an alarm on her phone as Ann snuggled into her chest. “We have to meet Maria in seven hours.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! </p><p>Gosh, so putting this up a little bit later than I have been, because I <i>just</i> finished writing it. I truly did every single thing I could today to procrastinate writing this. WHY? I don’t know. </p><p>I wanted to cover a lot of ground with this one, and I wish I had taken more time to flesh out some sections. That said, I couldn’t see where to cut it into two chapters, and I’m trying to stick to the no angst rule. So, I don’t know. Maybe it feels rushed. I always felt like their NYE should end up with them away from the crowd - partly because of Ann’s anxiety and partly because NYE is so freaking <i>long</i>. It’s exhausting, I think, and that’s got to wear on some nerves. At a certain point, you’re just tired. Ya know?</p><p>I also wanted to flesh out this boundary-pushing that we’ve been doing a lot of and make the distinction between expanding comfort zones (like Anne at the spa or Ann on the plane) and Ann’s anxiety. There’s a difference with that, and I think it’s important for them to recognize it. If I were better at this (writing, time management, etc.), I’d put a nice little conversation in bed about it, but I’m tired and it’s nearly midnight. Maybe for tomorrow’s chapter. </p><p>I certainly didn’t make it easier on myself by wanting to base the whole thing on “she was at first tired and sleepy but by and by roused up and during a long grubbling said once we had never done it so well before. I was hot to washing tub wetness and tired before it was half over. we talked and never slept till 5.” February 10, 1834. </p><p>Anyway, thank you thank you thank you for reading - please let me know what you thought! I did consider holding off on this chapter, but I am addicted to y’all’s comments. </p><p>P.S. writers and creative types - what do you do when you’re trying to focus? I usually write with the TV on in the background, but lately it’s distracting me too much.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. One More Helping of Crow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Adney,” she whined, “what the hell am I supposed to wear?”</p><p>“Anything you want, Pony.” </p><p>Ann dried her wet body, speaking flippantly over her shoulder as if they had more than twenty minutes to meet Maria. She was still fully naked, fresh from the shower, and clearly in no rush. Anne had managed to choose underwear (light pink boxer-briefs), an undershirt (standard white), and socks (plain black). Now? She was lost. When had she gotten so many clothes? It was so much simpler to wear black.</p><p>“But <i>what</i>?”</p><p>“Are you nervous?” Ann smiled, sauntering over to her.</p><p>“No! No, of course not.” Ann’s small hand ran along her lower back. “Well, maybe a bit. I wonder if - do you think I’ve gained weight?”</p><p>“What! Anne.”</p><p>“I’m afraid I’ve gone a bit grey at the temples. Have I?” Anne turned sharply to her wife. “Do I look older?”</p><p>“Anne Lister. Good Lord, take a breath. First of all,” Ann pulled a white collared shirt from the rack, “how am I supposed to know if you look older to Maria?” A fair point, Anne conceded, slipping the shirt over her shoulders. “Second, she’s already seen you, dummy.” Ann pulled out a pair of olive green trousers and a light grey tie. “Third, you look incredible, as always.”</p><p>Ann took over buttoning her shirt, and Anne allowed herself to exhale. Perhaps she was a bit nervous. Maria always had a way of looking right through her. Besides, she was still working out what to say to her. How to address her own mistakes and cruelties in the past. She knew it was the right thing, but wouldn’t it be rather awkward?</p><p>“So, listen,” she said as Ann looped her tie around her neck, “I think I want to say something to Maria.”</p><p>“That’s good.” Ann nodded indulgently. “I think she’d be disappointed if you sat there silently.”</p><p>“No!” Anne clicked her tongue. “No, I mean - I mean about what I was saying the other night. I wasn’t entirely fair to her.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” </p><p>Ann stepped away, reaching for that impossibly short grey skirt. Anne stepped into her trousers.</p><p>“Yes, I think I am. I think I’d be an asshole not to.”</p><p>“Could be weird though, Pony. She might just want to move forward.”</p><p>Anne considered for a moment as she watched her wife tuck a plain white shirt into that skirt. Maybe they could just stay here instead. Rip that skirt right off. Tear those ridiculous stockings. No, she told herself, this was the right thing. Hell, she didn’t even have Maria’s number; it wouldn’t do to stand her up. </p><p>“I think it’s the right thing to do. I want to do it.”</p><p>“Okay,” Ann said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll go to the toilet or something when we first arrive, okay? I think this is best between the two of you.”</p><p>Anne nodded, and they made their way outside. It was a brisk and bright, not too cold, and Anne inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with crisp Parisian air. A new year. So many possibilities. Ann’s warm hand in hers. She couldn’t believe the turn her life had taken.</p><p>“There she is!” Maria crowed as they approached the shop. Anne beamed, preparing for a tight hug, perhaps a kiss on the cheek; Maria was always so affectionate. “Ann Walker!” Maria pulled her wife in close. “My favorite customer.”</p><p>Slack-jawed, Anne watched Maria embrace her wife while she stood by like a forgotten child. After an eternity, Maria turned to her and wrapped an arm tightly around her waist, stretching up to kiss her on the cheek. </p><p>“And Dr. Lister, of course. How are you, dear?”</p><p>They chatted comfortably on the short walk to the restaurant Maria recommended. It was sleek and crowded and they had to order at a counter. Anne supposed it was alright; she’d wait for the food to make her final decision. Ann disappeared with a reassuring squeeze of her hand, and Anne found herself alone with Maria at a tall table along the wall.</p><p>“Listen, I wanted to tell you something.”</p><p>“Oh?” Maria’s carefully curved eyebrows raised. </p><p>“I - I don’t really know how to say it, but-”</p><p>“I’ve never known you to be short on words.”</p><p>“Well, you see, I - I wanted to, um.” Anne forced herself to meet Maria’s eyes; she really was beautiful, wasn’t she? Anne wasn’t looking forward to cloudy those bright eyes with memories of her misdeeds. “I’d like to apologize. For the way I treated you in the past.”</p><p>Sure enough, Maria’s eyes darkened, and she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. </p><p>“So do it.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“So apologize, Anne. You said you’d like to apologize. So apologize.”</p><p>She always had that way about her, didn’t she? Maria had a seemingly innate ability to cut to the chase. Perhaps this was why Anne had never given their relationship much of a chance either; Maria saw through her and called her out. It could be uncomfortable. Ann did that too, she supposed, but it didn’t needle her quite so much. </p><p>“I’m sorry, Maria,” she said carefully. “I think - I <i>know</i> I was unfair to you when - when we were together. I can’t take that back, but I am sorry. I don’t - I don’t have a reason, and - and maybe it wouldn’t matter if I did. The point is that I was prick.” Anne gave a small smile, feeling relieved as she saw Maria mirror her. “You always treated me fairly, and I can’t say that I did the same. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Maria leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table; with great difficulty, Anne kept her eyes on Maria’s face rather than her ample bosom. “You seem different now. The bright colors, for one.”</p><p>Just then, Ann returned, hopping onto the chair next to her. </p><p>“That’s all this one’s doing.” Anne nudged her affectionately. “I’m miserable when it comes to clothes.”</p><p>“I knew that,” Maria laughed. “All those shades of black. It was a nightmare.”</p><p>With a shake of her head, Anne leaned back and let the warm conversation flow around her as they ate. Maria had a way about her that set others at ease - perhaps that was how she got such a bad reputation for being loose. The unfortunate truth was that chatty women were too-often categorized as overly flirty or easy. Maria was flirty, but that wasn’t the point. She was nice to have a conversation with; Anne remembered why she’d been so taken with her. Her charms seemed to work on Ann as well, who was laughing and teasing as if she and Maria were old friends. </p><p>“She walks so <i>fast</i>,” Ann said with her mouth full of food. “I feel like I’ve seen most of Paris, some parts covered up by the back of Anne’s head!”</p><p>“Yes!” Maria cried, clapping her hands together. “I once got so behind her on the street we were on different cars on the Metro.” </p><p>“That was - that was different,” Anne protested. “We were in a hurry.”</p><p>“You were in a hurry,” Maria teased. “You always were.”</p><p>“Still is,” Ann winked, running a hand over Anne’s shoulder.</p><p>“What’s the secret, Ann Walker? How’d you get this one to calm down?”</p><p>“I haven’t,” Ann shrugged.”</p><p>“That’s not true, darling. I’m properly domesticated now.”</p><p>“I’m a bit of a homebody,” Ann tried to explain, “and Anne is very patient with me. Last night, I wasn’t quite up to going to the Champs-Elysées,” Ann looked at her for the pronunciation; Anne nodded at her approximation, “but she just let us come home.”</p><p>“Anne Lister,” Maria said sharply, “you tried to take this girl to the Champs-Elysées? On New Year’s Eve? This shy, sweet little thing? Have you actually lost your mind?”</p><p>“Well, I -” Anne looked between the two women, “I thought it would be fun.”</p><p>“With that - what, probably thousands of people? Anne.”</p><p>She shrugged helplessly, her face coloring at her misstep. Of course it was a foolish plan. She could see that now. She’d half-seen it last night, in the stricken look in her wife’s eyes and the shaking of her tiny hands, but then she’d been distracted by the garter belt and the no-panties and the wanton sounds. What a bull-headed idiot she’d been. Another apology coming up, she figured. </p><p>“It was okay.” Ann smoothed a hand down her forearm. “It was fine. We had a lovely night at the little apartment where we’re staying.”</p><p>“I bet you did,” Maria said saucily. “I trust you were satisfied with your purchases?”</p><p>“Yes, actually -” Anne started, until she felt her wife’s fingers tighten around her wrist. “Well, we don’t need to talk about it.”</p><p>“Thank you, darling.” Ann reached past her for the check then held out her hand for her wallet. Dutifully Anne produced it.</p><p>“She’s got you well-trained.” Maria seemed to be enjoying this. “What’s your secret, Miss Walker?”</p><p>“It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you,” Ann answered with a wink. </p><p>“I’m sure it’s something dirty,” Maria teased, drawing a scoff from Anne and a giggle from her wife. “Maybe not, though. If Anne Lister could be tamed by bedroom tricks alone, surely I would’ve done it.”</p><p>Anne felt a twinge at that - the truth of it, the allusion to the past, the insinuation in Maria’s words. Perhaps there was a world in which she’d stuck with Maria, stayed in Paris, helped raise a teenager. Good Lord, she’d be a stepmother. What a strange alternate reality that would be. </p><p>“Don’t look so melancholy,” Maria smiled, watching Anne return Ann’s card to her wallet and slip it back into her pocket. “You two seem very happy together. Like you’ve been together a lot longer than nine months.”</p><p>“We sort of went about backwards, didn’t we?” Anne chuckled. “Shacked up first, with the virus and everything.”</p><p>“Is that how it started?”</p><p>“Oh, yes,” Ann nodded excitedly, “Anne turned up at my door. At six in the bloody morning, by the way.”</p><p>“It was 7:15.”</p><p>“Typical,” Maria laughed, “go on.”</p><p>“She turned up, and we talked and - well, I’d had this massive crush on her for - well, for ages really.”</p><p>“Naturally,” Maria said warmly. Anne’s cheeks warmed at the easy way they talked about her, as if she weren’t even there. “And then she just jumped you?”</p><p>“No!” Anne protested.</p><p>“No, no, nothing like that,” Ann patted her arm. “A member of my staff started showing symptoms, so we decided to quarantine.”</p><p>“Didn’t want to bring it back to your aunt,” Maria offered knowingly. Anne twitched in her seat; it was strange to be in the company of two women who knew her so well. They were so similar and so different. She jostled her leg under the table. “How long before you two shagged?”</p><p>“Maria!” Anne cried. “Come on!”</p><p>“About twenty-four hours,” Ann said with a roll of her eyes; her hand drifted to Anne’s knee, stilling her bouncing leg.</p><p>“That’s Anne,” Maria laughed. “I’m pleased for you. Both of you.”</p><p>“How are you?” Anne dared. “Are you seeing anyone?”</p><p>“Well, then it wouldn’t be a secret,” Maria echoed Ann’s words, winked, and hopped to her feet.</p><p>The whole way back to the shop, Anne tried to quiz her to figure out who Maria was dating. A man or a woman? Younger? French? Maria gave nothing away. By the time they reached her door, she was grinning victoriously.</p><p>“So you just won’t tell me? At all?” </p><p>“Perhaps,” Maria reached out to fiddle with the knot of her tie; her expression was unreadable, even as close as she was, “you don’t get to know everything about me, Anne Lister. Perhaps I’ve spent long enough wanting your approval. Loving you and hating you in equal measure. Maybe this is just for me.”</p><p>Anne couldn’t find anything to say in response. Maria leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek, a bittersweet smile on her lips as she pulled away. </p><p>“Have a good trip, you two. Good to see you again, you old dog. Lovely meeting you, Ann Walker. I’m serious about those orders!” </p><p>She laughed and turned to her door. They watched her step inside, wink once more, and then she was gone. Anne turned to her wife, still trying to understand her own thoughts. </p><p>“That was really nice, Pony.”</p><p>“It was, wasn’t it?”</p><p>“I had a good time.” Ann slipped their clasped hands into the pocket of Anne’s coat. “Did you? Did you - uh - say what you wanted to say?”</p><p>“I think so.” Anne considered. “Yes. I did. I apologized, and she was very gracious.” </p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“I believe I still have one more helping of crow to eat, however.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“I shouldn’t have tried that crowd last night, Adney,” Anne said carefully. “I’m - it wasn’t very considerate. If I’d thought about it for even one second -”</p><p>“No.” Ann squeezed her hand. “Stop that.”</p><p>“Stop what?”</p><p>“Blaming yourself. It’s my problem, my shortcoming -”</p><p>“Not a shortcoming,” Anne said tersely, tired of having this conversation over and over; couldn’t Ann just let her apologize and move on? “That’s part of who you are, and I should have been more - uh, thoughtful, I guess, I just -”</p><p>“Oh, my God, Anne!” Her wife’s hand slipped out of her coat pocket; her voice betrayed her frustration. “How many fucking times are we going to go over this? You did everything just right, and it’s <i>me</i> who-”</p><p>“No,” Anne opened the door to their building and ushered Ann inside, “I shouldn’t have you put in that situation in the first place.”</p><p>“I want to be in that situation!” Ann cried, lowering her voice as a sour-faced man passed them. “I don’t want you to coddle me like a -”</p><p>“It’s not coddling! I’m trying to protect you!”</p><p>“I don’t need protecting!”</p><p>A young woman slipped into the lift just as the doors closed. Anne leaned against one corner, her wife against the opposite, their arms crossed; Anne made it a point not to look at her. Why was she being so obtuse? So deliberately and purposefully obtuse? Couldn’t she just accept a simple apology? Anne was trying to do better, wasn’t she? How did that make her the bad guy?</p><p>They marched into the apartment, and Ann plunked herself down at the dining table. Anne leaned against the counter. They were both scowling, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Anne made it her mission not to speak first. </p><p>And yet.</p><p>The time passed so incredibly slowly. Ann didn’t seem to notice at all. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs and thrusting her chin upward. Defiance personified. </p><p>“Fine, Ann, look, here’s the thing. I - I just want you to know that I see now that I fucked up. I shouldn’t have tried to take you to the Champs-Elysées last night. I should’ve known better, and - well, I just never want to make you uncomfortable.”</p><p>“Life makes me uncomfortable, Anne! Do you not -” Ann huffed in frustration. “How do you not get that? Leaving Crow Nest used to make me uncomfortable, and now I don’t even live there anymore. Walking down the street used to make me uncomfortable. Yesterday I asked you to shag me in an alley. Talking to you used to make me uncomfortable! Now we’re getting married! Do you understand? I -” she sighed. “I’ve lived a very sheltered life, okay? Things make me uncomfortable. You can’t protect me from all of them, and I don’t want you to. What I need you to do, actually, is exactly what you did last night. What you did in the airport and on the plane. Just check in with me and give me options. That’s how I can manage my anxiety, okay? I can’t manage it by locking myself away. I don’t want to.”</p><p>Well, shit. Anne couldn’t argue with that. She’d totally misinterpreted the whole situation, hadn’t she? Put her foot right in her mouth and held it there. Chomped down. Continued to speak with her mouth totally full of foot. Damn.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Anne softened her posture, but she didn’t move closer. “I didn’t think about it like that. I just - I don’t know how to do this. I keep screwing it up. I just want to protect you and take you on a romantic trip and - I don’t know what I’m doing.”</p><p>“You think I do?” Ann asked, a small smile playing at her lips. “I don’t think anyone knows, actually, how to do this. If I weren’t such a - such a scaredy cat, then -”</p><p>“No, that’s not it at all. You’re not - I don’t want you to see anxiety as - as - you’re not keeping me from anything. If you never wanted to leave this apartment again, I wouldn’t mind. I don’t care about going out and doing things, I just - well, I thought you’d want to -”</p><p>“I <i>do</i> want to, Anne. I just can’t always, you know, follow through.”</p><p>Ann was looking down, picking at her nails. Anne could feel the balance of the conversation shift. Her own frustration was gone, and Ann’s seemed to have morphed into insecurity. She closed the distance between them and knelt at her wife’s feet, taking her small hands in her own. She ran her thumbs across the backs of them, then pressed her lips to the soft skin. </p><p>“Listen,” she sighed, “I don’t mind that. I don’t care at all. Okay? Really and truly, bottom of my heart, it doesn’t bother me. We can try again, or not. What’s important to me is that you feel safe.”</p><p>Ann nodded, her eyes trained on their joined hands. </p><p>“And Adney?” Ann finally looked up; Anne couldn’t help smiling. “I would not change one single thing about you. Not being anxious or being short or hating broccoli or snoring or wearing those ridiculous short skirts that make me crazy.” Ann was smiling too now. “Well, maybe the snoring.” Ann giggled. “No, forget it. I’ll take you.” Anne leaned close. “Snores and all.”</p><p>Their lips met gently, just for a beat. Anne pulled away with a smile.</p><p>“Okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Ann nodded.</p><p>“Good,” Anne said crisply, her knees cracking as she stood. “What shall we do now?”</p><p>“I think I need a lie-down,” Ann said softly. “I’m just a bit tired, maybe my stomach is queasy.” Anne opened her mouth, but Ann held a hand up. “I’m okay! I’m okay. I just want to rest a bit. Do you mind?”</p><p>“Not at all,” Anne replied, meaning it. </p><p>Hand-in-hand, they went up to the loft. Ann stripped all the way down and pulled on a soft cotton t-shirt; Anne just took off her trousers and shirt. Snuggling under the covers, Anne was reminded of her joke to Maria - she certainly was domesticated. She didn’t care about seeing the sights; she’d already seen them. The important part was being with Ann, so if Ann wanted to stay curled up in this bed? That’s what she would do. It was a surprise even to herself how calm she felt about it. Perhaps that was the difference between Ann and Maria; they could both see through her, tease her, and seduce her, but Ann was the only one who could get Anne in bed without an ounce of seduction. Instead, here she was, in the middle of the afternoon, stroking Ann’s hair affectionately. </p><p>“Will you read to me, Pony?”</p><p>“Will you fall asleep?”</p><p>“Maybe,” Ann grinned up at her.</p><p>“Well, I don’t want you to be up all night. Our sleep schedules are going to be -”</p><p>Ann put a soft hand flat on her sternum, effectively silencing her.</p><p>“I’ll be able to fall asleep, Pony. I just want to rest my eyes and feel you touching my hair and hear your voice. Is that okay?”</p><p>“Of course,” Anne kissed the top of her head.</p><p>No, Anne thought, <i>this</i> was the difference. Part of it, yes, was that Anne had never bothered to slow down for anyone. The other part of it, though, was that no one had ever asked. No one in her whole sordid past had asked her to cuddle in bed, content with chaste touches and innocent petting. That was why Anne didn’t mind, why she was happy to stay inside like this. She’d done all the rest - explored museums and tried dozens of restaurants and walked miles and miles across Paris; what’d she’d never done, what she’d never had, was someone to curl up with. Everything outside? She could take or leave. She’d seen it before. This? Ann pressed into her side, her blonde hair tickling Anne’s neck, her slender fingers tracing across Anne’s skin? She’d never had this. There were a lot of beautiful things in the world - art and architecture and mountaintop views - and Anne had spent her whole life chasing and admiring them. For now, she was focused on one beautiful thing: this tiny, complicated woman now snoring into her chest.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>Ending based on “dawdling with Miss W her bowels grumbling and she wanted petting” August 8, 1834. There were definitely times when IRL Anne was inconsiderate and harsh with Ann, but I look at moments like this and feel like this tender version of Anne is justified. Especially early in their relationship.</p><p>Hope you enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. I Told You, Adney, I’m Very Funny</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thick, black socks covering restless feet and reaching halfway up her calves. Bare, knobby knees leading to strong thighs, the curve of her muscles disappearing into those tight little shorts. Light pink today, Ann noted with a smile; her eyes traveled over her wife’s tight behind, the broad curve of her back. Her breasts pressed gently against her t-shirt. For a moment, Ann hovered at the base of the stairs and watched her. Anne was loosely monitoring two thick steaks on the stove; her attention seemed to be more focused on the paperback in her left hand, occasionally stirring a few steaming pots with her right. Ann watched her the way one might watch a wild animal - quietly, awestruck, fearful of scaring her off. </p><p>“Come here, Adney,” Anne purred without looking up from the page. </p><p>Grinning, Ann latched onto her side, wrapping her arms around her wife’s narrow waist and pressing her face into her chest. They never got moments like this anymore, with the family and staff always around. Ann didn’t mind; she loved living at Shibden and being surrounded by Listers. She appreciated that Anne could now spend more energy on her (and the estate and her journal and whatever else she was always doing in her office), rather than bustling around the kitchen. Still, sometimes she found herself missing the simple domesticity of their first two weeks together, when it was just them in that big house, and they could kiss and tease and laugh wherever they wanted. Now, they could still do that, she supposed, but there was always someone around. It was nice to have some time and space for just the two of them. </p><p>“I think we’ll have some rolls as well, darling, how does that sound?”</p><p>Anne’s warm hand tripped down her spine, though Ann could tell she was still reading. She’d gone out for groceries while Ann was still napping; a quiet night in, they’d decided, that was what they needed. Tomorrow they’d tackle the Louvre, then the next day they’d be going home. Ann was anxious to get back to Shibden, to their familiar bed, to the family and her students and a routine. At the same time, she wanted to enjoy their time in this warm bubble. Anne kissed the top of her head. </p><p>“Sounds perfect, Pony.”</p><p>“Good.” Anne flicked her book closed. “How do you feel?”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“Stomach?”</p><p>“Just hungry,” Ann shrugged.</p><p>“Back?”</p><p>“Excellent.”</p><p>“Good,” Anne said seriously. “I did worry - about last night. About going a bit overboard.”</p><p>“I’m fine, Pony.”</p><p>“Very good.” Anne dipped her head to kiss her. “Are you cold, darling?”</p><p>“No.” Ann looked up at her quizzically.</p><p>“You seem cold,” Anne husked, her eyes trailing down to Ann’s breasts, her nipples straining against the soft fabric of her nightshirt. “Or is it just me?”</p><p>Groaning playfully, Ann pulled her infuriating wife down for another kiss. Anne’s strong hands landed easily on her hips, pulling her in gently. For a brief moment, Ann was floating, dreamy and dopey in her wife’s arms. She slid her fingers up into those dark locks and pressed her hips into Anne’s, not urgently, just wanting to be as close as possible. It was magical, as kissing Anne always was. </p><p>Then her phone rang. </p><p>Anne’s did, actually. FaceTime. They broke apart, and Anne scrambled to answer it. Aunt Anne’s smiling face filled the screen. </p><p>“Did I interrupt you?” </p><p>“No,” Anne said a bit too quickly, smoothing her hair back. Ann giggled. “We’re - uh - we’re just making dinner.”</p><p>“Good, good, now I know I’ll see you the day after tomorrow, but I am just desperate to hear about New Year’s Eve in Paris. Where’s Little Ann?”</p><p>“Here I am!” Ann came around to face the phone, perching on Anne’s knee and grinning broadly at her aunt. “How are you? How is everyone? How’s Argus?”</p><p>“How’s Argus,” Anne scoffed, tipping her off her lap. “Ridiculous.”</p><p>Ann rolled her eyes for Aunt Anne’s benefit, as Anne went to put the bread in the oven. </p><p>“We’re all fine,” Aunt Anne chuckled, “how are you, my dear? I hope Anne isn’t working you too hard. I was glad when she texted me that you all were staying in tonight. She can be a bit of a taskmaster, that one.”</p><p>“No, no, nothing like that,” Ann laughed. “We’re having a splendid time.”</p><p>She took Aunt Anne on a tour of the apartment, grateful they’d cleaned up. She would never recover if sweet, gentle Aunt Anne saw one of their purchases from Maria’s store.</p><p>“Is it cold?”</p><p>“A bit,” Ann nodded.</p><p>“She won’t wear her hat,” Anne called from the stove.</p><p>“Well, look at it.” Ann pulled her silly cap with the pom-pom on her head. “I mean, come on. Would you walk around Paris like that?”</p><p>“If it would keep me warm,” Aunt Anne scolded gently. </p><p>“I guess,” Ann sighed. A few months ago, she might’ve been embarrassed to have Aunt Anne redirect her like this, but now she didn’t mind. She smiled at the thought - this was her family. Of course it was. </p><p>“We’re going to the Louvre tomorrow.” Anne slid behind her, placing a reassuring hand on her back. “Aunt, tell her about the time we went.”</p><p>They sat down as they had before, Ann on her wife’s knee, and listened and nodded and smiled appropriately at their aunt’s story. It was good to see her again, Ann thought, her fluffy grey bun, her twinkling eyes, the deep crevasses around her eyes when she laughed. Ann did miss her, she found, and she missed the way Anne got around her aunt. She was silly and childish in a different way, joking and teasing until Aunt Anne was wiping tears from her eyes; no one could make Aunt laugh like Anne could. The whole time Anne rubbed her hand lightly up and down Ann’s thigh, along her hip, up to her waist. When Anne jostled her off her lap, Ann was grateful to be far from her maddening fingers. </p><p>“Get the bread out, will you, love?” </p><p>Ann nodded seriously, donning the oven mitts while her wife and aunt chatted behind her. She opened the oven door, leaned forward, and slid out the baking tray. </p><p>Then the screaming started.</p><p>“What?” She gasped. “What?” </p><p>She turned in alarm. Anne was shouting at her. The phone clattered to the table, Aunt Anne’s tinny voice signaling disaster. In a single stride, Anne crossed to her side and pulled her hat from her head. Ann watched it fall into the sink with a fizzle.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>The pom-pom had caught fire. Their fancy little apartment had a gas stove. When she leaned over to open the oven, the hat must’ve - </p><p>Oh.</p><p>She set down the still-warm pan, feeling more than a little shaken. Anne hugged her tightly, running her hands down the back of Ann’s head and muttering softly. They stepped back to the table; Anne picked up the phone. </p><p>“She’s alright, Aunt. Sorry to give you a fright. Her hat caught on the stove - it’s - well, we’re fine now, right?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Ann managed, and she was, actually, fine. She’d missed the actual frightening part; before she knew what was happening, it was already over. The possibility of it made her stomach a bit queasy, but she actually felt remarkably calm. Anne’s strong arms helped. “I’m really okay. I promise.”</p><p>“Oh, God, Antsy, you can’t scare me like that,” Aunt Anne breathed. “Good heavens. Be careful, you two.”</p><p>“We will,” Anne said resolutely.</p><p>“We will,” Ann echoed her.</p><p>“We’d better have our dinner then, alright? So good to see you, Aunt. Much love.”</p><p>Aunt Anne was still murmuring her goodbye when Anne ended the call and tossed her phone onto the table. She held Ann close, so close that Ann could feel her heart racing in her chest; Ann was sure her own was beating just as fast.</p><p>“Adney, oh, my darling.” Anne kissed the top of her head. “Fuck, that was so scary.”</p><p>“I had no idea. I - I’m sorry, really, I didn’t even think about it.”</p><p>“No, no, you’re fine.” Anne shushed her, like a mother with a fussy baby. Her hands ran up and down Ann’s back. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re alright.”</p><p>“I’m fine, Pony, really, I - hold on. What’s that smell?”</p><p>An acrid scent filled the room, mixing with the aromas of their dinner. This was different though. They both turned to the stove - nothing was burning there. Anne looked down at her, loosening her bun and running her fingers through her hair. She made a soft, pitying sound with her tongue.</p><p>“Oh dear.”</p><p>“What? What is it?”</p><p>“Your hair,” Anne said mournfully, “just a bit of it. Just a tiny piece. It’s - let’s say singed, okay?”</p><p>“Singed?” Now Ann was properly scared. “What does that mean?”</p><p>“Um, well, it’s - here.” Anne picked up her phone. “I’ll take a picture.”</p><p>Ann’s heart sank when she saw it. She’d had her hair tied up in a bun, under the hat, and the ends were - well, Anne was right - they’d been burnt. Just the tips. Not much damage, really. She’d certainly have to cut at least an inch off. Maybe two. She groaned. Anne chuckled and pulled her back into her arms.</p><p>“But my hair,” Ann whined.</p><p>“It’s okay, darling. I’m just glad you’re safe.”</p><p>All of that residual, built-up, holy-shit-I-almost-caught-on-fire fear turned into mopey, pouting, holy-shit-my-hair-is-ruined annoyance. Ann plopped down at the table, pulling at her hair to try to get a glimpse of the burnt ends. Anne puttered around the kitchen, sliding a plate of steak, peas, and potatoes in front of her. Another plate appeared in front of her, piled high with the stupid bread that had caused the whole problem. Anne sat across from her, nudging her gently with her foot.</p><p>“Adney? Let’s eat.”</p><p>“Do I look awful?” </p><p>“No,” Anne drawled, “you look beautiful, as always. Even if you have to get a bit of a trim. You could shave your head, and you’d still be beautiful. Alright?”</p><p>“Alright,” she said quietly, picking up her fork. “I can’t believe I did that.”</p><p>“I’m tremendously glad you weren’t hurt, but,” Anne paused, fighting back a grin, “it’s kind of funny. In retrospect.”</p><p>“Anne!”</p><p>“You caught your hat on <i>fire</i>, darling! That’s pretty funny. Since no one was hurt.”</p><p>“You’re mean,” Ann pouted, picking at her plate. “At least you can cook, otherwise I might kick you to the curb.”</p><p>“Liar,” Anne teased, her mouth full of food. “There are lots of reasons to keep me around.”</p><p>“Name one.” </p><p>Ann enjoyed the turn the conversation was taking; perhaps Anne could break her out of her sour mood. </p><p>“Cooking, that’s a good one.” Anne tilted her head back and forth, as if trying to think. “I’m funny.”</p><p>“I’ll be the judge of that.”</p><p>“Alright,” Anne chuckled, “so you’re like that tonight, huh? Well, I’m good at conversation.”</p><p>“Are you?”</p><p>“Sure, even when my conversation partner,” Anne said pointedly, “is being difficult on purpose.”</p><p>“I’m not hearing a lot of reasons,” Ann teased, her mood lifting. </p><p>“How about this?” Anne slid her foot slowly up Ann’s calf. “I’m good in bed. That feels like reason enough.”</p><p>“That is true,” Ann grinned, “but that’s not why I keep you.”</p><p>“And why do you, Adney?”</p><p>“Because you saved me. You do save me. All the time. From my loneliness and my stupid family and literal fires. And you’re a good cook. And I love you, Pony.”</p><p>“I love you, you silly girl,” Anne smiled, though Ann could see her eyes glistening.</p><p>Later, once the food was gone and the dishes washed, Ann got a better look at her hair in the bathroom mirror. It wasn’t so bad, she could admit. She would keep it tied back until she could get it trimmed. With the shock of the evening wearing off, Ann could admit it was <i>kind of</i> funny. She smiled at Anne in the mirror as they brushed their teeth.</p><p>“What?” Anne garbled through the toothpaste.</p><p>Ann leaned down to spit, rinse out her mouth, then start on her skincare routine. </p><p>“That’s a pretty good story, me catching my hair on fire. You’re right. It is funny.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Anne said proudly, leaning back against the wall to watch her. “Marian is going to get a kick out of it.”</p><p>“I think she will,” she chuckled, then caught Anne’s eye. “Don’t look at me like that.”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“Like you’re impatient. Like you’re practically counting the seconds until I’m done with this so you can sling me over your shoulder and throw me onto that bed.”</p><p>“Mrs. Lister,” Anne scoffed, “I would never.” Then she appeared to consider, a lascivious grin spreading across her face. “Now that you mention it…”</p><p>“Pony,” she laughed, “you’re impossible. Honestly, you should start doing some of this.”</p><p>“Doing what?”</p><p>“Taking care of your skin. You’re so vain; I’m surprised you don’t already.”</p><p>“I’m not vain.”</p><p>“Uh, yes, you are.”</p><p>“Absolutely not.”</p><p>“Pony.” Ann turned to face her. “You asked me this morning if you look older, if you’ve gained weight, if you have grey hair.” She reached up to stroke the hair at her wife’s temple, which, honestly, did have a few grey hairs. “You look amazing, and I wouldn’t care if you looked older or gained weight or lost all your hair entirely. But if you’re worried about it -” Anne opened her mouth, but Ann silenced her with a tug to her hair, “it won’t make you too feminine, Pony. Don’t even start that with me tonight.”</p><p>“Okay,” Anne nodded, “I’ll think about it.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>Ann tilted her chin. There was a little more fire to this kiss, Anne’s hands splaying across her back and her hips grinding into Ann’s. She’d felt tired this afternoon, but now she was energized. The nap, talking to Aunt Anne, the scare of the fire, the meal, and, now, the warmth from Anne’s body - she was wide awake.</p><p>“Now, I think,” Anne purred, “there was some mention of throwing you onto our bed?”</p><p>Ann raised her eyebrows, and then she was flying through the air, her stomach pressed into Anne’s shoulder, her cheek bouncing against her back as Anne strode upstairs. She laughed and beat her fists lightly against Anne’s back; she loved that Anne could pick her up like this, like she weighed nothing. Before she knew it, she was dropping onto the bed, giggling and enjoying the cool of the sheets below her.</p><p>“Now, Adney,” Anne warned, kneeling between her legs and planting her hands on either side of her chest, “we can’t stay up all night again.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>She reached for the front of Anne’s shirt, pulling her closer.</p><p>“Your back, for one, and we have to get up early tomorrow.”</p><p>“I know.” </p><p>Ann pulled her a bit closer, their lips nearly touching.</p><p>“That said,” Anne husked, “I want you so badly I can’t even think.”</p><p>With a gentle tug, Ann brought their lips together, moaning into Anne’s mouth as she dropped down to slip her arms under Ann and around her back. Arching upward, Ann pulled her closer. Their limbs slid together slowly, patiently. Ann trailed her hands along Anne’s breasts, her firm stomach, under the hem of her shirt. Anne broke away with a soft gasp as Ann traced the skin just above her pants. </p><p>“Adney,” she drawled.</p><p>“Really, Pony,” she pressed her lips to the side of Anne’s neck, “how do you get your abs like this?” Anne chuckled and shook her head. “I never see you work out.”</p><p>“You, Mrs. Lister,” Anne shifted to straddle one of Ann’s thighs, her long fingers tracing down Ann’s side, “should wake up earlier.”</p><p>“What?” Ann twitched as her wife’s hand slipped under her nightshirt.</p><p>“Sometimes,” Anne kissed her clavicle, “I do my planks in the morning,” her warm hand closed around Ann’s breast, “while you’re asleep.” Ann hummed as Anne started a gentle grind against her leg. “Sometimes in the office at work.” Anne mouthed her nipple over the fabric. “Whenever I can.”</p><p>“Fuck, Pony, that’s - that’s hot.”</p><p>Anne’s laugh vibrated against her chest, and Ann tugged at her shirt. They broke apart for a moment, each whipping off their shirt and then crashing back together with hungry lips and greedy hands. Anne moved down Ann’s neck, across her collar bones, over the swell of each breast.</p><p>“You know,” she ran her tongue over Ann’s nipple, “I was trying to think,” again; Ann hissed, pulling her head closer, “of a line,” she leaned back, covering Ann’s breasts with both hands, “about how hot you are,” she rolled her hips against Ann’s thigh, “and our little incident tonight, but you know,” she rolled Ann’s breasts in her hands, “I’m not quite getting it.”</p><p>“Pony,” Ann moaned, “how about,” she arched her back into Anne’s tender hands, “instead of coming up with something crude to say,” she slipped her hands in the back of Anne’s shorts, “you fuck me.”</p><p>Anne gave a playful growl and scooted back to tear Ann’s underwear off. Giggling, Ann kicked the fabric down her legs while Anne pulled her boxer-briefs off. She reached up for Anne, grabbing at the air.</p><p>“Come on, Pony. Get back here.”</p><p>Anne laughed and pounced on her, kissing Ann hungrily and caressing her clavicle, her breast, the indent of her waist. Ann whined, pressing her hips upward. Anne made that sound - low in her throat, raspy and possessive and arousing - as she grazed her teeth over Ann’s jugular.</p><p>“Ann Walker, I cant believe how hot you are.” She traced through Ann’s arousal. “So hot,” her tongue darted out to smooth a path along her neck to her ear, “you’re burning up.”</p><p>“Anne!” She smacked her lightly on the shoulder. “You can go sleep on one of those chairs downstairs.”</p><p>“Oh no,” Anne said seriously, “Adney, I’m sorry.” She kissed her deeply, her tongue sliding against Ann’s. “I didn’t mean to get you,” she buried her face in the crook of Ann’s neck, “fired up.”</p><p>“Anne Lister!” She cried, but Anne was already lifting her up, shifting them so Ann sat astride her lap. Her strong hands ran up Ann’s back and around her hips; Ann’s protestations turned into satisfied laughter, “oh - Anne.”</p><p>“I told you, Adney,” she kissed her neck, “I’m very funny.”</p><p>Ann opened her mouth to protest, but she could only moan as Anne’s long fingers found her center. Closing her eyes, Ann rocked against her hand, steadying herself with her forearms on her wife’s shoulders. Anne’s fingers were tender as they stroked between her folds, teasing her entrance for entirely too long. With the maddening heat between her legs and the incredible press of Anne’s mouth to her neck, Ann was growing desperate. She tangled one hair in Anne’s hair, tugging gently.</p><p>“Pony,” she breathed, grinding her hips insistently, “I need you.”</p><p>Anne’s breath was hot against her neck as she chuckled. Oh, what a prick she was, Ann thought, what a ridiculous and infuriating and insanely sexy prick. A prick who knew just how to guide her up to that impossible peak. With impeccable finesse, she slid inside Ann, drawing a moan from them both. They started a gentle rhythm, Ann riding her hand slowly as she tried to ease out every ounce of pleasure. </p><p>“You feel so good,” Anne husked in her ear, sneaking a second finger in; how did she manage to find Ann’s clit with every stroke? “You’re so perfect, Adney. You’re so wet.”</p><p>Ann nodded, head thrown back as she swirled her hips over Anne’s rapidly thrusting hand. She was close, she knew, but she didn’t want this to end. If she could live in this moment, the one just before she came - what paradise that would be. Anne took one of her breasts in her mouth, grazed her nipple with her teeth, pressed Ann into her with a hand across her shoulderblades. </p><p>“Anne,” she whined, her voice growing higher with every stroke, “fuck - yes - right - baby, please - come on - yes, baby, yes - fuck - yes, yes, yes.”</p><p>With a final shout and a jerk of the hips, Ann’s release washed over her. She shuddered in Anne’s arms for a few beats, and then she collapsed forward, burying her face in the crook of her wife’s slick neck. Sometimes, after she came, she needed more, feeling wild and insatiable and desperate for Anne in a thousand ways. Tonight, however, with Anne’s soft voice and tender hands, she felt relief. Like scratching an itch or finding her keys or remembering that one actor’s name. Every ounce of tension left her body, and she was free, floating in the warm, sappy pool of love. </p><p>“You’re cute,” Anne whispered in her ear, “when you get like this.”</p><p>“Like what?” </p><p>“All sleepy and smiley. You’re cute.”</p><p>“Am I?” Ann opened her eyes and bit her lip. “Is that the only time I’m cute?”</p><p>“No,” Anne drawled, leaning back against the pillows and taking Ann with her, “you’re cute in that hat you ruined.” Ann pressed her lips to Anne’s sternum. “And when you wear my shirts.” Ann laved her tongue under one of Anne’s breasts - no resistance. “And when you talk to Aunt Anne.” Ann repeated this movement across Anne’s other breast - same result; she smiled at the progress. “And the way you - oh.” Ann had just dragged her tongue in a broad stripe down the middle of Anne’s stomach, relishing the goosebumps and tensed muscles in her wake. “Uh, when you, um, do that thing with your, uh, wallet.”</p><p>“What thing?” Ann pushed her legs apart, slipping one over her shoulder and pressing her lips along the inside of Anne’s thighs.</p><p>“You just, um, you hold out your hand.” Anne hummed, pressing one hand to the back of Ann’s head; how was she still talking? Ann made it her mission to steal her train of thought, her words, the very breath in her lungs. “And you - unh - and you don’t even say - uh - say any - fuck - thing, and I just - fuck, yeah, there - I love to be - fuck, Ann, harder - uh - fuck, yes, like that - I - what - I -”</p><p>“Pony,” she breathed against her core, “stop talking.”</p><p>“Right, right,” Anne nodded urgently.</p><p>Ann took this opportunity to study her wife - the way her stomach was split between protruding muscles and soft little rolls, the hard peaks of her nipples, how her biceps stood out as she held herself on her elbows, her eyes closed tight and her lips parted. Still watching  her face, Ann flattened her tongue and drew a broad stripe through her arousal. Anne’s head tipped back, a low moan rumbling in her throat; she fell flat into the pillows, both hands shooting down to cup the back of Ann’s head. Gently, Ann lapped at her folds, dipping between for just a moment, before returning to her clit; she drew figure-eights and circles and straight, harsh lines. Anne was mumbling incoherently above her, swirling her hips against Ann’s face. With a purposeful flick of the tongue, Ann sent her into oblivion, grinning as her loquacious and controlled wife was reduced to a sweaty, trembling mass of pleas and curses. </p><p>When, at last, the shaking subsided and the hands fell away, Ann pressed her lips to Anne’s skin, the stripe between her belly button and thatch of dark hair. She usually did this after going down on her wife, a sort of reconnection, a silent “I love you” and “thank you” and “that’s so bloody cool.” Because even now, having done this hundreds of times, Ann was still in awe of her wife’s body. Of her own body. Of the things they could do together. She kissed her quivering stomach, then her sternum, the hollow of her throat, then her lips. Anne caught her head and kissed her sloppily. </p><p>“I love you,” Ann whispered as she pulled away to snuggle into Anne’s side. </p><p>“Do you?” Anne smiled coyly, reaching for her readers and their book.</p><p>“Yes, of course.” She pulled them covers over them, relishing the feeling of their naked, sweaty, sated bodies all pressed together like this. “Why do you say that?”</p><p>“I just wonder if you’ll still love me once I tell you the joke I thought of.”</p><p>“What joke?” Ann asked suspiciously. “While I was - while we were doing that?”</p><p>“It just came to me,” Anne said dramatically, “a moment of genius.”</p><p>“So what joke is that?” She poked Anne’s side.</p><p>“Just, with what happened tonight, I think I’ve thought of our first dance song.” Ann perked up, watching her wife close her eyes to croon softly, “<i>this girl is on fire.</i>”</p><p>Their laughter mixed with the sound of Ann’s tiny fists, and Anne’s scoffing protests to fill the loft. Oh, Anne Lister was infuriating, she thought as Anne wrestled her back to the sheets and kissed her soundly. Infuriating and ridiculous and annoying and frustrating and absolutely, totally irreplaceable.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>This chapter based entirely on a tweet from CodeBreaker @patnaylor9: “about 11 heard a very strange noise of bustle and screaming...found Cookson and Oddy with Ann who had set her night-cap on fire, thrown it blazing on the hearth-rug instead of as she intended, into the fire-place...Everybody frightened but luckily no further harm done than singeing a little of Ann’s pretty flaxen hair - thankful SHE was safe.” January 1, 1837. Honestly, one of my favorite entries because 1. “pretty flaxen hair” 2. “thankful SHE was safe” 3. Ann what were you DOING??? </p><p>Thank you for your kind words and encouraging comments. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it! Thank you thank you thank you!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. I actually don’t think the Venus de Milo has a great ass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Of all the things I’ve written, the formatting, capitalization, and italics of artwork are the most stressful. Apologies if it’s wonky.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If asked, Anne would say that she preferred <i>The Iliad</i> over all other epics. <i>The Aeneid</i> a close second, then <i>The Odyssey</i> last. It was fine, really, but Odysseus always seemed a bit mealy mouthed, hard to make up his mind, prone to detours. 10 years to get from one location to another? Grow up. </p><p>And yet, the redeeming grace of that story was Penelope. The long-suffering wife, raising her son alone and serving as the archetype for grace and patience and piety. Was there ever anyone lovelier? Circe was hot, sure, but she couldn’t hold a candle to Penelope. It took Odysseus a little while to figure that one out, but he got there. </p><p>The similarities with her own life, Anne thought, were growing a bit uncomfortable.</p><p>Penelope spent twenty years - twenty years! - waiting for Odysseus. In that time, dozens of suitors gravitated toward the tiny island of Ithaca, vying for her hand. Penelope, in her limitless grace, began to weave a shroud for her father-in-law, begging these greedy, stinky men for the time to do so before she remarried. Every day, she wove more and more, only to undo all of her work by night. She never strayed from Odysseus, from their marriage, from their home, even as he cavorted around the Aegean. Had there ever been a better, more incredible and astonishingly brilliant woman? Anne hadn’t thought so.</p><p>And then she’d been tugged by the hand through the Louvre by Ann Walker. </p><p>Perhaps it was the sculptures, down on the lower level where Ann had insisted they started. Sculptures always made her think of Greece, even though the ones they were currently admiring were from 18th- and 19th-century Europe, as Ann happily informed her. If she really searched for it, Anne might have known some of these facts, but she wouldn’t interrupt her wife for anything.</p><p>“Isn’t it incredible,” she breathed, “the expanse of human history? Right here in this building.”</p><p>“It certainly is,” Anne laughed as they wove their way through the crowd. “Feels like the whole of humanity is pushing and shoving past us.”</p><p>“Hold my hand, Pony,” Ann soothed, “so you don’t get lost.”</p><p>There it was again - Ann weaving and unweaving her expectations. The volume of people should’ve been enough to scare her off, but she was singularly determined. She had a little notebook (in Anne’s pocket) in which she’d written down all the pieces she wanted to see. It seemed more like something Anne would do, but she supposed Ann had been waiting her entire life to come here. As they approached <i>The Code of Hammurabi</i>, Ann held out her hand for the notebook. </p><p>“It’s actually smaller than I thought.”</p><p>Anne laughed, shaking her head. She tilted her neck back to look at the ancient stone. She’d never spent much time on this particular section, all these Mesopotamian artifacts. Rather Eurocentric of her, she supposed, to spend all of her time among the French and Dutch masters. Even this idea of “masters” was - Ann interrupted her thoughts and led her toward the stone monstrosities apparently called <i>Winged Bulls</i>. </p><p>“Aren’t they fascinating?”</p><p>“They are,” Anne nodded, trying to figure out what was so fascinating about a horse body, some wings, and a man’s head. </p><p>“Almost three thousand years old, Pony.” Ann pressed into her side, clutching her hand. “That’s insane. Before the birth of Christ and running water and electricity and - I mean way before any of that! And they were able to make this. That’s crazy!”</p><p>“It is,” Anne said, meaning it this time.</p><p>“See, here’s the thing.” Ann led her down a long hallway, lined with marbles, which Anne knew would end at <i>Venus de Milo</i>. “Thousands of years ago, people made art. Isn’t that ridiculous? When we could barely get clean water and English didn’t even exist and nobody knew what a germ was, we were still making art. For my whole life, that’s been such a comfort to me, because I- I’ve always wanted to make art. Paint and draw and whatever else. Always, always, always. To think that, even if those terrible times, even during tragedies and wars and - well, there were always people like me. That’s meant a lot to me.”</p><p>There Ann went again, Anne thought as she swallowed dryly. Adding a new thread to the heart-wrenching story of her childhood. How had she survived it? Anne wondered. It was all so pitiful. So lonely and sad. Anne thought of her own childhood - absent parents, sure, but at least she had Sam. She had the estate and swords and school; soon enough, she had girls to chase after and tease. Poor Ann only ever seemed to have herself. Herself and her paints. Anne held her hand tighter, as if she could erase a lifetime of loneliness in a touch. </p><p>“See that?” Ann pointed to a stark marble statue of a pubescent boy - it was always the boys with these sculptors, wasn’t it? “See that bar connecting his leg? That’s how you can tell it’s Roman.”</p><p>Anne did, actually, know this, but she relished the chance to hear Ann speak so confidently.</p><p>“The Romans couldn’t figure out how to balance their statues right,” Ann continued, leading her further down the hall, “so they’d have to put those in to make sure they didn’t fall right over. The Greeks didn’t have to do that. They just knew.”</p><p>“The Greeks did every better, didn’t they?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Ann said thoughtfully, “just about.”</p><p>They reached the outskirts of the small crowd at Venus’s feet; Ann pulled her around to the side. For a moment, they just studied her back and side. Anne had never really taken the time to look at the back of the statue - the jut of her hip, the crease of her behind, the folds of fabric around her thighs. She was struck anew with the grace and beauty of it. The female form, sure, she’d always been entranced by that, but the tender folds of marble seemed brand new. New and intoxicating and impossible - how could that really be made of <i>stone</i>? Perhaps it was the vantage point. Perhaps it was Ann’s soft body pressing into hers. </p><p>“I used to stare at her for hours,” Ann whispered. “In my thick book of famous art, all glossy pictures and short descriptions. Under the covers every night. Wonder why it took me so long to figure out I’m a lesbian.” She chuckled, pulling Anne down the hall of Etruscan art and toward the stairs. “She’s kind of got a great ass, don’t you think?”</p><p>Ann paused in front of the <i>Sarcophagus of a Married Couple</i>, and Anne had to laugh. </p><p>“What?” She demanded.</p><p>“I actually don’t think the <i>Venus de Milo</i> has a great ass.” </p><p>“You don’t?” Ann started to giggle too.</p><p>“Isn’t it rather flat? Come on, Adney.”</p><p>“I guess that’s why I like yours,” she teased, slipping her hand into the back pocket of Anne’s jeans. </p><p>Anne scoffed, as if offended, but she was really delighted. <i>Again</i>, Ann had surprised her. What a deliciously dirty little person. Funny, too. Anne was quick to ascribe her this life of sadness and solitude, but she was vibrant. A young Ann staring at picture after picture of naked women in art and trying to figure out what she liked so much about them? Anne had done the same. Perhaps their childhoods hadn’t been so different after all.</p><p>“I like this one,” Ann said softly. </p><p>They were the only ones even giving this sarcophagus a second glance. It featured a man and a woman, half-seated and sort of spooning toward the viewer. His right arm over her shoulder, her left hand offering him something, though his left hand had fallen off. They had placid smiles on their faces. Anne tilted her head. </p><p>“Tombs have always interested me.” Ann was ticking boxes in her notebook. “How people spend their money on something they’ll never get to enjoy. How they want to be remembered.” She slipped her hand back around Anne’s waist; Anne dropped her arm on her shoulders. “This one is nice because the man and the woman are the same size. In a lot of Greek art, for funerals and stuff, the women are smaller. Or, the men are bigger. Well, either way, they’re not equal. And these two seem kind of happy, you know?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Anne said thoughtfully. </p><p>“Like, if we were building our tomb, I’d want to be smiling. The thought of spending eternity with you,” Ann leaned her head against Anne’s chest, “that makes me smile.”</p><p>Anne turned her around sharply and brought their lips together. Just for a moment. Just to say “me too” without risking bursting into tears. She pulled away, cleared her throat, and let Ann lead her up the stairs.</p><p>“Can I tell you something funny?” Anne asked as they climbed up toward the headless statue of <i>Winged Victory</i>. “In Greek myth, the goddess for victory was Nike, right?” Ann nodded. “When I was in uni, I took a mythology course. We talked about Nike and another minor goddess whose name is pronounced Dee-kay. Right?” They meandered through an ornate hall of gold leaf and 19th century aristocrats. “Well, it’s spelled D-I-K-E,. One day, I was foolish enough to look up as the professor asked a question. ‘Who is the goddess of social norms and conventional rules, Miss Lister?’ As proud as could be, with my short hair and chunky jeans, I said loudly and clearly: dyke.”</p><p>Ann stopped in front of a large painting of angels tumbling out of heaven and stared at Anne for a beat. Then she started to guffaw. She laughed so hard that Anne started to get embarrassed. She smiled politely at strangers passing them, her face burning as Ann doubled over with laughter. Finally, finally, she straightened and wiped her eyes. Anne shook her head in disbelief. </p><p>“That’s funny, Pony,” Ann grinned, turning to take in the paintings around them. “That was really, really funny.”</p><p>They passed through this room slowly. Anne followed her wife’s lead, noting when she paused and when she moved on. She so rarely got to see Ann at work like this, in her natural habitat, one that Anne knew little about. Sure, she knew enough about art to get by in conversation, certainly a fair amount about ancient Greek and Roman art because of her work, but not as much as Ann. Every snippet of information was illuminating. Ann could describe brush strokes and point out techniques in a way that made Anne feel like a genuine, engaged student again. How many years had it been since that happened?</p><p>Eventually, they made their way to the crowd around <i>Mona Lisa</i>. The individuals might change, but the crowd remained. All day long. Anne stepped forward, happy to push through the crowd so that Ann could get a closer look, but her wife held her back. She gave her a quizzical look.</p><p>“Can we just stay back here?” </p><p>She was back - Anne’s diminutive, quiet, shy wife. Where had the confident art professor gone? Anne nodded, looping her arm around Ann’s waist and leading her toward the wall. They inched forward until their view was more or less unobstructed. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The room was full of sound - camera shutters clicking and footsteps falling and multiple languages intermingling. It was quite special, wasn’t it? Experiencing the most famous painting in history with her wife. Anne started to feel rather emotional.</p><p>“Pretty trite, eh?” Ann said dryly, turning away.</p><p>“What?” Anne exclaimed, following her out of the room.</p><p>“It’s, like, not even that big.”</p><p>“Ann!”</p><p>“I mean, I get the historical significance, but it’s not exactly jaw-dropping.”</p><p>Anne could only scoff as she followed Ann’s quick steps upstairs. Yet again, Ann added a new thread to her analogous weaving. Ann Walker - amateur artist from Halifax, teaching assistant, and university dropout - was unimpressed by the Mona Fucking Lisa. She had strong opinions, that one, Anne had to give her that. They strolled the hall of Rubens, and she checked her watch - they should go soon. Ann should eat a little something for lunch. Stroll back to the apartment. Rest up a little. Find somewhere nice for dinner. </p><p>“This one,” Ann said, taking her hand again. </p><p><i>Liberty Leading the People</i>. A classic. Anne smiled. This made more sense. She could actually have a conversation about this. Perhaps she and Ann were on equal footing for once. She looked down at her, only to be met by a low flame in those blue eyes. She furrowed her brow.</p><p>“Adney?”</p><p>“What are the toilets like here?”</p><p>“Stalls, I think,” Anne said slowly. “Why? Do you feel sick?”</p><p>“I just wonder,” Ann ran her hand around Anne’s waist, under her coat and up along her spine, “if we could - you know - quickly.”</p><p>She knew her mouth was hanging open, but she really couldn’t help it. Surely Ann didn’t mean - <i>here</i>? The same woman who didn’t want to bump shoulders with strangers to see <i>Mona Lisa</i> now wanted to bump uglies in a bathroom stall? Anne was wrong; she’d been terribly, foolishly, almost unbelievably wrong. How could she ever believe she and Ann were on equal footing? Ann was always a half dozen steps ahead, constantly surprising her. She shook her head.</p><p>“Here?” </p><p>“Is that crazy?” Ann looked up at her, fighting back a grin and running one hand along Anne’s jumper. “We don’t have to.”</p><p>“I’m just - uh, I didn’t expect that.” Anne led her toward the restrooms. “I did not think you were going to say that.”</p><p>“It’s kind of a fantasy of mine,” Ann said softly. </p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Just a quick one,” she said quickly, as if justifying herself. “Just, uh, yeah. If you think we could get away with it.”</p><p>“I think we could,” Anne purred as they jogged across some stairs, moving toward the older paintings. She knew this area, 17th-century French paintings, was more sparsely populated. “I think we’ll have to be quick though.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” Ann nodded urgently, like an obedient child promising to walk the dog every day, “I can be really quick.”</p><p>“Tell me, Miss Walker, what’s the fantasy? Fucking me in the Louvre? Getting fucked <i>by</i> me in the Louvre? On your knees, riding my hand, what?”</p><p>“Fuck, Pony,” Ann whined softly, “I don’t know. Any of it. All of it.”</p><p>“Here’s what I’m thinking,” she leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I’d like to press you up against that grimy wall in there. I think we could do it quickly, Adney. I know we could. My hand on your -”</p><p>“Okay,” Ann interrupted, “okay, Pony, come on.”</p><p>“You don’t want me to say that? What would you rather I say?” </p><p>With a whine, Ann pulled her through the swinging door. Anne checked the deserted bathroom - empty. Ann pulled her into the farthest stall. Their lips met hungrily as Anne fumbled over Ann’s jeans; she flicked open the button and shoved her hand inside. Ann’s moan vibrated against her jumper, and Anne grinned at the rush of wetness greeting her.</p><p>“Already?” She whispered in her ear. “Was it looking at art?” She started circling Ann’s clit. “Was it holding my hand?” She slid down between her folds. “Was it talking about me,” she eased her middle finger inside, “fucking you?”</p><p>“Pony,” Ann breathed.</p><p>“Quiet, baby.”</p><p>She couldn’t deny that this was impossibly arousing. It was humid in that tiny stall, their breaths mingling as Anne thrust sharply into her wife. She did try to keep it down, but the telltale sounds of clothes rustling, heaving breathing, and those slick, filthy squelches would have given them away immediately. Anne kept her ears perked for anyone coming in, but, luckily, they were spared. She pumped her hand against Ann roughly, hoisting one of Ann’s legs up around her waist and sucking gently against the exposed skin of her neck; Ann’s small hands grappled along her back, her hips rutting desperately. </p><p>“Is this what you wanted?” Ann nodded against her shoulder. “Coming all over my hand in the fucking Louvre?”</p><p>“Oh fuck,” Ann breathed, shuddering in her arms.</p><p>“That’s it,” she murmured quietly, stroking Ann gently through her climax. “You feel so good, Adney. You’re so beautiful.”</p><p>With a soft groan, Ann relaxed against her, her hips jolting once more before Anne pulled her hand away. She looked up at her, blue eyes full of emotions that Anne couldn’t begin to parse. Anne leaned down to kiss her softly. When they parted, Ann looked as if she were about to speak. </p><p>Then the door swung open. </p><p>They both froze as they heard a soft voice speaking quietly and quickly, squeaky shoes shuffling across the floor, and, finally, the stall next to them slam shut. Anne took her wife’s hand and tugged her toward the sinks; with a look, she sent Ann out to the hall, then set about washing her hands. The interloper appeared, small child in tow, and smiling politely to Anne. With a nod, Anne dried her hands and was gone. </p><p>“Pony,” Ann whisper-shouted when she reappeared, “holy shit!”</p><p>“Close call,” Anne laughed, taking her arm as they trotted down the stairs. “Good thing you’re always such a quick study.”</p><p>Ann scoffed and rolled her eyes. </p><p>“I am surprised, Adney, that you’d want to shag here. When you didn’t want to get closer to the <i>Mona Lisa</i>. Just -” she paused, afraid to say the wrong thing. “I don’t know. I’m still learning, I guess.”</p><p>“I know, I know,” Ann nodded; “it doesn’t always make sense. I don’t always make sense. Being in a big crowd like that, it - uh - it frightens me. Worries me, I think might be the better word. But with you - well, when it’s just us, I’m not so afraid.”</p><p>Anne beamed, noting this information for the future. There was still so much she had to learn about Ann’s anxiety, how to manage it, how to predict triggering situations. </p><p>“But, you know,” Ann said thoughtfully as they stepped out into the daylight, “that was, like, my biggest fantasy - ever - just come true.”</p><p>“What? Shagging in the toilet?”</p><p>“No! Well, yes. Sort of. Going there. With you. Getting to - you know, to be with you, that was a dream of mine. Ever since I was a teenager. That was, like, the dream of dreams. You whisking me away to Paris. We’d be in love, and you’d take to the Louvre, and we’d want each other so much that we -” Ann exhaled and shook her head in a way that Anne knew meant she was blushing, “we wouldn’t be able to wait until we got home.”</p><p>“That’s exactly what happened.” Anne kissed the top of her head. “Did we live up to your fantasy?”</p><p>“I waited years for you, Pony, and the reality - oh, the reality is so much better.”</p><p>Anne stooped to kiss her - just once, hard and resolutely, a confirmation and a promise. They stared at each other for a moment, there on the busy sidewalk, and then Ann pulled Anne’s hat from her head and tugged it down around her own ears. They both laughed, and Anne pulled her closer as they strolled down the street in search of a café. </p><p>It hit her, then, the final piece of this Penelope analogy she’d been chewing on all day. The weaving, the unweaving, the waiting - all of that had happened before Anne hopped up the stairs in front of Crow Nest last March. Ann had been waiting, as patient and loyal as Penelope, for over a decade. Waiting and wishing for Anne to come to her. To come home. Once Odysseus returned, Penelope didn’t have to tread water; their lives could move forward. The poets didn’t cover that part of the story; in the movies, this was always the moment to fade to black. Anne often wondered why - why couldn’t they just show the happy times? The easy, dull, simple joys of life. Now, she fancied, she knew why. There simply weren’t words enough to capture it - the curve of Ann’s grin, the cadence of her laughter, the warm press of her body; Anne could barely log them in her brain fast enough, could barely enjoy them before Ann was laughing again or teasing her or kissing her. Perhaps, Anne thought, her odyssey was over; she thanked God for delivering her home to her Penelope.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>I had a lot of fun researching this one. Did you know you can go to Google Maps and do “street view” through some parts of the Louvre? There are tons of little bubbles with photos people have taken inside. Pretty cool way to tour since traveling seems...impossible these days. </p><p>All of my Greek/Roman knowledge is based on my obsession in middle and high school, so if that’s wrong, uh, let’s just ignore it. The Dike thing did happen to me...</p><p>Is this story getting boring? Has it gone on too long? Let me know. It’s hard for me to judge. You all are so generous in your comments - I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it!</p><p>Thank you!!</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. You’re Going To Give Me Carpal Tunnel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Can we go in?” Ann nodded to the jewelry store near the café they were leaving. “Just to look.”</p><p>She was positively buzzing from their hours in the Louvre, from the rich food they’d just eaten, from Anne’s knee brushing against hers under the table. They hadn’t done much wedding planning, aside from reserving the church and sending out invitations for the reception. The plan was to keep it to just family for the actual ceremony, with the rest of the tribe and friends and colleagues coming to Shibden afterward. Once they got back to Halifax, Ann knew they’d have to start working on it in earnest. First, though, they should pick out their wedding bands, right?</p><p>“Sure,” Anne said easily, opening the door for her. </p><p>The shop was small, brightly lit, rows and rows of glass cases all around. Another couple spoke hurried French to a man in a dark suit; a nervous-looking young man examined bracelets near them, his hair sticking up at all angles. Shiny white tile under their feet, they shuffled to the closest case, peering at rows of necklaces. Anne slid an arm around her waist. </p><p>“Let me buy you something.”</p><p>“No, no, Pony, let’s just look.” Ann scooted to the next case: rows and rows of rings on those little severed fingers. “Research.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“I’d like to be able to talk to the - you know, the guy, who’s making our wedding rings, and my French is horrific. Do you like that one?”</p><p>Ann pointed to a thick gold band with a diamond inlaid - kind of masculine, kind of feminine, right? Anne’s nose wrinkled.</p><p>“I don’t think so.”</p><p>“Why not?” Ann continued scanning. </p><p>“Well, I just - I don’t know. Not that one.”</p><p>“Oh, Pony,” Ann leaned so close to the case her nose nearly touched the glass, “how about these?”</p><p>Under her pointing finger was a set of two rings, intertwined silver to look like branches; faintly, as she leaned forward, she could see the curved edge that brought the two flush. From far away, they appeared to be one thick ring. Plain silver, no stones, classic and botanical and unique. She turned to her wife, eyebrows raised.</p><p>“For us?” Anne asked. “I think the illusion would be lost if we split the two.”</p><p>“For <i>you</i>, Pony.”</p><p>“Me?”</p><p>“An engagement ring and a wedding ring,” Ann bit her lip. “What do you think?”</p><p>“We’re getting married in three months,” Anne chuckled, “isn’t a bit late for an engagement ring?”</p><p>“Well,” she clicked her tongue, “no, I don’t think so. I just - I should’ve thought of this sooner. But you’ll have all new students this term, and I’d like for you to have something on that finger of yours.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Anne’s hand gripped her hip a little tighter. “What else would you like on this finger of mine?”</p><p>“Stop,” Ann laughed, “you’re bad. Do you like it? Would you wear it?”</p><p>“Of course.” Anne kissed the top of her head. “I actually really do like it. Honestly,” she said seriously, her dark eyes boring into Ann’s for a moment, before turning back to the case. “And what for you, my love?” </p><p>“Something simple, I think. Just a band. Go with the ring.”</p><p>“Okay.” Anne turned to make eye contact with one of the men in suits, now that the French couple had shuffled out. “Let’s get them.”</p><p>“What? No, we’ll get them at home.”</p><p>“I want that one,” Anne nodded to the silver rings. “I don’t want to wait.”</p><p>Something about the tone of Anne’s voice - was it possessive? Self-assured? Whatever it was, Ann felt breathless. A middle-aged man appeared behind the case, smiling warmly and raising his eyebrows in question. </p><p>“How can I help you?” He asked, only the hint of a French accent hanging around his words. They must’ve looked surprised, because he continued, “I heard you all talking. Not a very big shop, but we do try to cater to our guests. Have you seen anything in particular?”</p><p>“This one.” Ann pointed. “Could we - uh,” she turned to Anne, “we should get them engraved.”</p><p>“Absolutely,” Anne smiled. “Could we take one of them with us today? The other one we’d like engraved.”</p><p>The man nodded, sliding the rings out from the case and setting them on top. Ann couldn’t stop smiling. They were just right. </p><p>“This one, too.” Anne pointed to a slender silver band, then turned to look to her wife. “Also engraved, I think.”</p><p>Ann felt positively giddy as the man set the rings on the glass side-by-side and gathered a series of papers. It was strangely simple, this momentous task of buying wedding rings. Anne’s left hand stayed on her hip the entire time, even as her right twirled the proffered pen. </p><p>“Am I correct in assuming you do not live in Paris?” </p><p>“Yes,” Anne answered, scanning the pages. </p><p>“Excellent, now, let’s try this one on. We do all the re-sizing in house.”</p><p>They both looked up to see the man holding out the slim, inner band of Anne’s ring, white cotton gloves on his hands. Ann couldn’t hold back her grin as she watched her wife hold out her right hand, palm upward. Did she have to be so difficult? With a furrowed brow, their clerk set the ring in her hand, and Anne slipped it over her own ring finger. She stretched her fingers out a bit, turning her hand in the light, then slipped it back off.</p><p>“A perfect fit.”</p><p>“Really?” Ann breathed. </p><p>“Made for you,” the clerk offered with a simpering smile; Ann started to resent him for being a part of this moment. “Now, if you’ll fill out these papers for me, so that we can ship the rings to you once they’ve been sized and engraved. Miss?” </p><p>He held his hand out for Ann, a jangly key ring in the other; dozens of dull rings clanged together - for sizing, she figured. She held her left hand out, but Anne looked up sharply.</p><p>“She wears a six.”</p><p>“What?” Ann and the man said in unison.</p><p>“I know your ring size, Adney. It’s a six.”</p><p>Stern. Knowledgeable. Territorial. Ann licked her lips. Extremely arousing. She watched the clerk sheepishly stow his key ring as Anne’s strong hand flew across the page, filling out their address, her ring size, something illegible at the bottom. Ann leaned closer, but Anne covered the section with her hand.</p><p>“A surprise, Adney,” she purred. </p><p>Ann shifted her feet excitedly. What was Anne engraving on her ring? What should she put for Anne’s? She wracked her brain. All too soon, Anne was sliding the paper to her, pointing to the section where she would write her own message. She couldn’t think of anything. It was all a blank. This was hopeless, she’d never - it came to her. From on high, literally. She printed carefully: PSALM 91:11. Sometimes, on Sunday mornings, Anne would read through the morning service if none of them felt like going to church. A few weeks before Christmas, this verse had come up. They hadn’t discussed it much, but Ann felt a connection to it. “For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways” - that was pretty poetic, wasn’t it? A good representation of their relationship. Anne spent years struggling with the way that she was, trying to find acceptance, and, she’d told Ann, for a long time, she only really felt it from God. Not the Church, necessarily, but from God. Ann wanted to reinforce her love and adoration for her wife, even with all her ridiculous and annoying habits. “All thy ways,” indeed.</p><p>“Excellent,” the clerk smiled as Ann handed the papers over. “I can help you right over here.”</p><p>They moved through the contentious portion of the transaction: a light skirmish over payment.</p><p>“Adney,” she hissed, “I will not have you buy your own wedding ring.”</p><p>“Back at you.” </p><p>Ann slid her hand into Anne’s pocket and snagged her wallet; Anne scoffed, trying not to make a scene. Ann smiled serenely as she handed over her credit card. A swipe and a signature and they were on their way, the velvet ring box in Ann’s pocket. </p><p>“Can’t I wear my ring now?” Anne asked, failing to conceal her pout.</p><p>“Don’t I get to decide when I give it to you?” Ann teased. “I thought that’s how this worked.”</p><p>“You should’ve let me pay.”</p><p>“Anne,” she sighed, “it was just easier this way. Two transactions? That’s so annoying. That guy was starting to bug me anyway.”</p><p>“We have had this conversation.”</p><p>“Pony,” Ann whined, “are you cross with me?”</p><p>“I think I am.” </p><p>Anne shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat as they walked toward the apartment; Ann looped her arm through Anne’s, leaning into her shoulder. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d made Anne upset like this. With just a foolish, bumbling mistake. She hadn’t thought twice about it, more worried about extending the interaction with that man than Anne’s insecurity about money. Damn, she cursed herself. How was she going to fix this?</p><p>“Anne,” she whined, “I’m sorry. I didn’t - fuck, I didn’t think about it.”</p><p>“It’s important to me. That I pay for things. Symbolically. You bought your own fucking wedding band, Ann!”</p><p>Anne was staring straight ahead, so Ann could only see her profile as they walked. Her forehead was creased, her jaw set, her Adam’s apple bobbing in her throat. She was so proud, Ann’s wife. Why didn’t she just think for one second? </p><p>“I could say the same for you - your engagement and wedding rings. Shouldn’t I get to pay for those?” No response, though Anne’s jaw twitched; she knew Ann was right. “It didn’t even cross my mind, Anne. I’m sorry. Let’s go back.” Ann pulled on her arm. “Let’s fix it.”</p><p>“No,” Anne sighed. “That’s even worse. Following Mommy back and having her fix it for me? No, let’s go home.”</p><p>“Mommy?” Ann bit back a smile. “And what does that make you?”</p><p>“I think you know.”</p><p>From her vantage point, Ann could see a smirk tugging at the corner of her wife’s mouth. </p><p>“Daddy, don’t be upset with me.” She ran her hand up and down Anne’s forearm. “I am sorry. I will say,” she said slowly, “didn’t you pay for the invitations and have Eugenie send them out?”</p><p>“Well - yes.”</p><p>“So maybe now,” Ann eased her hand down into Anne’s pocket to interlace their fingers, “we’re even? With wedding things?”</p><p>For a beat, Anne didn’t respond. Ann could tell she was thinking, considering the point from all angles. Their hands jostled together as they walked; they were getting closer to the apartment. Finally, Anne sighed.</p><p>“You’re right, Adney. We’re even.”</p><p>“Good.” Ann pressed her lips to her wife’s shoulder. “I am sorry, Pony. I forgot.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Anne let them into their building. “It’s all okay.”</p><p>Stepping into the lift, Ann started to think about what she’d do once they got inside. She wanted to give Anne the ring right away, but she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say yet. On the one hand, she was anxious to see Anne wear her ring, but, on the other, she was afraid to get it wrong. Anne had taken a week to figure out her proposal, and she was good with words. Ann felt like she had infinitely less time and infinitely less talent. </p><p>Still, stepping into their narrow apartment, she watched Anne shrug out of her coat and unlace her boots, and she knew she couldn’t wait. It wasn’t like she was going to say no. Slipping off her own coat and shoes and Anne’s hat, she dropped to her knees just inside the front door, clearing her throat as Anne strode toward the window. Her chest swelled as Anne spun around to face her; her throat constricted at the softness in her eyes, the gentle smile on her lips, the nervous clenching of her hands. </p><p>“Adney?”</p><p>“Don’t interrupt me, or I’ll be cross,” she said, echoing Anne’s words in the garden that night in March. “Anne Lister, I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I’ve said it a million times, and it’s true. You entranced me, day and night, for - for most of my life. But the last nine months, actually getting to know you and be with you and love you,” her voice cracked, “it’s been - I can’t believe that I ever thought I was in love with you.” Anne sputtered a protest, but Ann just held up her hand. “Because I had no idea what it meant. All that time I spent fantasizing about you and thinking about you and dreaming and - and everything else? That was nothing compared to being with you. Every day, it’s like - I feel safe and - and loved and - and sexy,” she chuckled, wishing the words flowed more eloquently, “and smart and funny and capable and - God, Pony, you just can’t know what that means to me. How much your love has changed my life. How grateful and honored I am to be the one who - who holds your hand and chooses your shirts and falls asleep in your arms and, uh,” she reached in her pocket and pulled out that box, twisting it around to face Anne, “I guess you knew this was coming? I love you, Anne Lister. I want to be your wife, and I want you to be mine. Will you marry me?”</p><p>Nodding her head, Anne closed the distance between them with a single step. Ann could see the gleam in her eyes, the tear stains on her cheeks, the bright, wide grin stretching across her face. Anne hauled her upright, her warm hands cupping Ann’s face, her lips soft and desperate as they met Ann’s. She wrapped her arms around Anne’s waist, pulling her close, still clutching the ring box in one hand. The kiss was deep and hungry and meaningful, and by the time they broke apart, Ann’s head was swimming. They were both shaking their heads in disbelief; Anne’s thumbs swiped across her cheeks. When had she started crying?</p><p>“That’s a yes?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” Anne laughed. “That’s a fuck yes.”</p><p>Giggling, Ann brought the ring box between them and eased the silver band from it. Anne held out her right palm, as she’d done in the store, but Ann shook her head. With a roll of her eyes, Anne offered her left hand instead; she was shaking. Ann was too, she noticed as she cupped Anne’s palm with her left hand and slid the ring onto her finger with her right. For a moment they just breathed and stared at their clasped hands. The enormity of the moment - even just as a symbol, even though they’d been engaged for months, even as she knew they were committed without the jewelry - almost overwhelmed her. Then Anne’s long fingers tightened around hers and pulled her forward. </p><p>Their lips met in a slow, searching kiss. Ann felt greedy as her hands slipped under her wife’s jumper, but she wasn’t in a rush. Her limbs were heavy, weighed down by the luxury of time, of commitment, of years and years to rip each other’s clothes off. She broke the kiss to pull Anne’s sweater over her head, their lips meeting again as Anne flicked open her jeans. She took a fistful of Anne’s shirt, holding her close as they stumbled clumsily to the floor of the kitchen. She landed on top of Anne, panting and laughing and unable to believe her luck.</p><p>“I love you,” Anne whispered into her neck as she pushed Ann’s jeans down around her knees. Straddling one powerful thigh and balancing on her elbows, Ann could only whimper and wiggle her hips. “Ann Walker, I love you so much.”</p><p>Before she could say anything else, Anne’s fingers slipped into her panties, tracing gently through her folds. Her hips jerked at the first brush against her clit. Anne splayed her hand across Ann’s lower back, pressing her hips upward as she stroked gently. </p><p>“Fuck, Anne.”</p><p>“That’s it, baby.” Anne’s lips travelled up her neck, down to the juncture with her shoulder. “You feel so good.”</p><p>Ann whined, rolling her hips in time with Anne’s gentle ministrations. Anne was teasing her, building her up, and, for now, she didn’t mind. It was exquisite, the feeling of Anne’s warm body below her, her strong hands caressing her, her soft lips trailing across her skin. </p><p>“You’re so wet, Adney.” Anne sucked gently on her neck. “I can’t wait to marry you.”</p><p>“Pony,” she managed, halfway between a moan and a gasp, “harder.”</p><p>Her wife just chuckled as she sat up, holding Ann close with one hand and thrusting sharply into her with the other. Ann sighed in relief at being filled, her hips grinding into Anne, whose strong hand moved under her sweater, up her back, curling around her waist to guide her movements. </p><p>“Oh, fuck,” Ann breathed, barely aware of the words leaving her mouth, “Pony, I - fuck, right there, that’s - fuck.”</p><p>“Ann,” her wife said calmly, “you don’t always have to say something.”</p><p>Eyes wide and amazed at the audacity of this infuriating, magical woman, Ann took that grinning face in her hands and kissed her. Fiercely and hungrily and desperately. She rode Anne’s hand with an urgency she hadn’t realized had been building all day; that romp in the bathroom had only been a diversion. She needed to be filled, surrounded, taken. Breaking away, she tossed her head back; she groaned as Anne’s mouth closed over her breast, sucking at her nipple through the fabric of her jumper. </p><p>“Anne,” she panted, “fuck, Anne, yes, God -”</p><p>Her wife’s face appeared in front of her again, grinning and shaking her head with a look of mischievous delight. She wrapped one hand around the back of Ann’s neck and pulled her in for a sloppy, desperate kiss. It was too much - the ache in her legs, the fire in her core, the slick slide of Anne’s tongue against her own. With a high-pitched moan, Ann shot into her release; her hips jerked forward as pleasure skated up her spine. </p><p>“Such a good girl,” Anne purred in her ear. “You look so beautiful when you come.” Ann could barely hear her soft, encouraging voice as she rolled through the last of her climax. “You’re mine; you’re all mine.”</p><p>“Fuck, Pony,” she sighed, dropping her forehead onto Anne’s shoulder. “Good Lord.”</p><p>“Good Lord, indeed,” Anne whispered before bringing their lips together in a tender, slow kiss. “Adney, you know I don’t ask for much,” she pressed her hips upward, “but I think I might die if you don’t touch me.”</p><p>How incredible to hear those words, Ann thought as she kissed her again. To be the source of desire and need and pleasure for Anne Lister. She pulled Anne’s shirt over her head then leaned her back, tracing a line of kisses across her clavicle, between her breasts, along her ribs, all over her firm stomach. </p><p>“Ann,” she breathed, “please don’t make me wait.”</p><p>“I wonder,” Ann flicked open her jeans, “what I shall call you,” she slid them down her thighs and tossed them toward the door behind them, “when we’re married.” </p><p>For a few long moments she dragged her lips and tongue along Anne’s strong calves, up to her thighs, to the hem of her dark blue boxer-briefs; she was working up to something. Something that got her very hot, but that she worried Anne might not like. Just a phrase. A pair of words. It was worth a shot.</p><p>“Maybe,” she tucked her fingers in the waistband of Anne’s shorts, “just between us,” she pulled these off, throwing them toward the door as well, “I could call you,” she sat on her heels between Anne’s spread legs, “Mrs. Walker.”</p><p>Anne’s eyes were wide as she swung herself upright and pulled Ann into a desperate kiss. They fell backward onto the hard floor, Anne’s tongue in her mouth, her hands clutching her tightly, her chest pressing against Ann’s own. Ann pulled back to catch her breath, a little surprised by the desperation in her wife’s eyes.</p><p>“Fuck, Adney. That might be the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.”</p><p>“Really?” Ann grinned.</p><p>“Yeah,” Anne panted. “Now, if you, uh, don’t mind.” She twisted her hips. “I was serious when I said I think I might die.”</p><p>“So impatient,” she teased, kissing Anne once more before retracing her path across her chest and settling between her legs. “You’re always in such a rush, Mrs. Walker.”</p><p>Anne whined, lifting her hips urgently. With a kiss to the inside of her thigh, she lifted Anne’s legs over her shoulders and settled about the slow, gentle unraveling of her wife. She inhaled deeply, moaning as the scent of Anne’s arousal filled her lungs. She started with long strokes of her tongue along her folds, soft suckling of her clit, shallow dips into her entrance. Anne’s hands cupped the back of her head, urging her closer. </p><p>“Ann,” she breathed.</p><p>It was intoxicating - the words, the taste, the desperation. She shifted to take Anne’s clit between her lips, digging her fingers into the warm flesh of her thighs. Sharp heels dug into her back, her neck straining as she flicked, circled, and strummed the hard bud of Anne’s desire. </p><p>“Ann, Ann, Ann,” came the desperate chant from above. </p><p>A fresh wave of arousal coated Ann’s chin as Anne’s hips started to shake. Her hands tightened in Ann’s hair; filthy sounds dripped from her lips. Humming softly, Ann lapped at every inch of her core until Anne collapsed back with a sigh. </p><p>“Oh, Ann,” she groaned, her eyes still shut and her lips parted; she wore that crumpled expression, the one that morphed into slack satisfaction as Ann’s lips pressed to her belly. “Good Lord, Ann.”</p><p>”I’m wondering about something.” Ann kissed her sternum. “It’s sort of an anatomical question.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Anne opened her eyes sleepily; her hand lazily traced up and down Ann’s spine. </p><p>“Do you think - like, with the way that we - uh - could you squirt?”</p><p>“What?” Anne seemed to be wide awake now. </p><p>“Just, like, is it possible?”</p><p>Anne sighed, staring over Ann’s shoulder at the ceiling above them. Ann gave her time to think, tracing circles over her clavicle. The thought of extracting that kind of response from her wife? Ann’s core clenched at the thought. </p><p>“I think so,” Anne said slowly. “I haven’t - uh - I’ve never done it. With the - the way I know how to do, it wouldn’t work for me, right?” Ann nodded. “So, um. We might have to do some research. Try some things.”</p><p>“Sounds fun,” Ann said softly.</p><p>“Not tonight, hmmm?” Anne craned her neck to meet Ann’s gaze. “I don’t know if that poor mattress can survive it.”</p><p>“Okay.” Ann kissed her gently. “Maybe when we’re home, how does that sound?”</p><p>“Perfect.” Anne brought their lips together for just a moment. “Now, we have to get up, Adney, or my back will be as bad as yours.”</p><p>Scoffing, Ann hoisted herself to her feet, laughing as Anne hopped up next to her. They were rather a pair, weren’t they? Anne wore only her bra, but Ann still had on her jumper and panties. With a smile, Anne teased her fingers under the hem of her sweater; she brought their lips together and tugged Ann back toward the stairs. They stumbled through the narrow apartment, kissing and giggling and pulling Ann’s sweater over her head. Anne dropped it to the floor, wrapped her arms around Ann’s waist, and pulled her close. How was Anne so good at this? Ann couldn’t even process - the hand on her hip, the firm press of her lips, the slender fingers untwisting the clasp of her bra, the sharp hips urging her toward the wall at the base of the stairs. </p><p>“Fuck, Anne,” she broke away, panting, “how are you so good at this?”</p><p>“Good at what?” Anne whispered into her neck, her hands trailing into her panties and cupping Ann’s ass. “Use your words, Adney.”</p><p>“At touching me,” she breathed, grinding her hips against Anne’s. “Fucking me. God, Pony, can you -”</p><p>Ann had to break off when Anne’s hands cupped her breasts, circling her nipples with her thumbs. </p><p>“Can I what?” Anne purred, nipped lightly at her jugular. </p><p>“Fuck me.”</p><p>“As you wish.”</p><p>Then she was spinning around, Anne’s firm body pressing into her back, the cool wall against her front. One hand still on her breast, Anne snaked the other between her legs, toying gently with her clit.</p><p>“Fuck, Pony.”</p><p>Anne’s breath was hot against her skin, her hips insistent as they rolled against Ann’s ass, her hand roughly grinding Ann’s breast. Ann covered her hands, pressing them harder against herself, needing her wife harder, faster.</p><p>“It’s like that, Adney?” Anne dragged her tongue along her neck, from her shoulder to her jaw. “Fucked up against a wall?” Anne planted her left hand on the wall near Ann’s head. “Is my wife such a dirty girl?”</p><p>“Yes,” she moaned. “Yes, Pony, yes.”</p><p>Anne leaned into her, curling her fingers up and inside with a rough, relentless rhythm. Her low grunts filled Ann’s ear; her slick body pressed flush against her back. Already, Ann could feel that perfect tension building in her gut, in her thighs, in her core. It was incredible and overwhelming, and Ann had to steady herself with a hand on the wall, the other massaging her own breast. She focused on the tailored strength of Anne’s hand against the wall: her long fingers and protruding veins and that delicate silver band. </p><p>“Fuck, Pony, oh my - yes, baby, fuck.”</p><p>The wave of her climax grew higher and stronger, and all Ann could think about was their hands. Overlapping like that. Ann inched hers closer to Anne’s, interlacing her pinky and ring fingers with Anne’s index and middle. Their rings glinted in the light; she curled her fingers around Anne’s, and their rings knocked together. It was too much - Anne’s touch and their heavy breathing and the incredible fact that Anne Lister was going to fucking marry her. </p><p>“Pony!” She cried, shuddering back against her wife. </p><p>Anne’s sharp teeth on her neck, her long fingers pushing evenly against her clenching walls, the broad heel of her hand pressing against her clit, their slick skin molding together as Ann trembled and mumbled incoherently. After an eternity, Ann relaxed, panting and pulling Anne’s hand to her lips. She kissed the knuckle just above her ring.</p><p>“Oh, Pony.”</p><p>“Uh-huh,” Anne hummed smugly. “I swear, Miss Walker,” she stretched her right arm out, rolling her wrist; a loud crack filled the room, “you’re going to give me carpal tunnel.”</p><p>Giggling, Ann turned in her arms and kissed her; she trailed her fingers along Anne’s face, her neck, down to her shoulders. She pulled away with a smile and led Anne up the stairs. When they reached the top, she tugged Anne’s bra off, finally, and they tumbled into bed. </p><p>“You know what I was thinking about,” Anne said softly as they recovered against the cool sheets, “while we were down there?”</p><p>“How much you love me?” Ann teased, rolling into her chest and propping herself up on her chin. “How good I feel? How badly you wanted to see me come?”</p><p>“Well, yes,” Anne chuckled, “obviously, all of that. But,” she drawled, tracing circles along Ann’s spine, “I was looking at our hands too, you know? Is that weird?”</p><p>“I was thinking the same thing!” Ann said excitedly, rolling onto her back and holding her left hand in the air; Anne held hers up next to it. “We look pretty good, don’t we?”</p><p>“You should really keep your mind on the task at hand, Miss Walker,” Anne teased.</p><p>“At hand? Are you, like, into puns now? I might need that ring back,” she laughed, and Anne nudged her. “It looks good on you, Pony. I’ve waited long enough to stake my claim on you.”</p><p>“Say it again.”</p><p>Anne’s voice was low and soft, almost shy, as if she were embarrassed to be asking this. Ann turned back to face her, running her hand along Anne’s side. </p><p>“Say what?”</p><p>“What you were going to call me. You said it downstairs.”</p><p>Ann bit her lip, smiling at her impossibly soft wife. </p><p>“Mrs. Walker?”</p><p>Her wife looked so conflicted - excited and grateful and aroused and emotional. Ann reached up to catch her lips for a moment. </p><p>“I’m a bit surprised, Mrs. Walker, that you liked that. Something about being the husband, like you were saying a few days ago.”</p><p>“Well,” Anne said thoughtfully, “my wife has disabused me of that foolish idea. I’m excited to be your wife. And really, Adney, I can’t quite find the words to say how - how proud I am. To belong to someone. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”</p><p>There was nothing to do but kiss her. Long and slow and with no intention behind it. Just “I love you” and “me too” and “you’re mine.” Pulling away, Ann wiped a tear from her wife’s proud cheek. </p><p>“Good,” she said softly, “because I’ve already decided. There’s not a damn thing you can do about it.” Anne chuckled, shaking her head. “Now, Mrs. Walker, we’re taking a nap.” She settled back against her chest, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply of her wife’s scent. “You belong to me, and this wrist?” Ann wrapped her fingers around her wife’s wiry forearm. “I need it to stay in perfect condition.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>Big shoutout to JaneC for asking about Anne getting an engagement ring as well. Such a good idea for a modern Ann(e)s - thank you!</p><p>You all are so very generous with your feedback, especially on the last chapter. I do intend to keep up with this daily until I go back to work (mid-August), and from there I’m not sure.  I have a big, long list of things I want these two to do, so I have plenty of material lined up. </p><p>I did try to get some close-ups, and - Ann’s ring is silver, right? I don’t know why it looked a bit gold to me. Whatever, my version is silver. Anne’s rings are both silver in the show - the wedding band and her index finger ring. What do we think Anne wants engraved inside Ann’s wedding ring? </p><p>Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Sweet Dreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Feelings + Smut is the subtitle for this whole series</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their last morning in Paris, Anne thought with a sigh, what bliss. Their flight wasn’t until the afternoon, so they had a bit of time. She crept out of bed for a cup of tea, careful not to wake the snoring beast. She completed her morning exercises while the water boiled, then crept back upstairs and slid into bed. Ann rolled into her side, flung one leg over her lap, but otherwise did not seem disturbed. Sitting up against the headboard, Anne scribbled in her journal and sipped her tea, content and warm. </p><p>To have an engagement ring now sitting on her left hand - she had not predicted that. Ann Walker, always a surprise. It was lovely, the ring, delicate and shiny and new. As much as she loved it like this, she longed for the day it would be scratched and dull, a testament to the length of the marriage and the durability of their love. Perhaps she’d get a white ring around her finger from the sun, a sort of permanent wedding ring in the tan line. She smiled at the thought of being marked as Ann’s, even when she wore nothing at all.</p><p>Speaking of Ann, her little wife was starting to murmur in her sleep. This was one of Anne’s favorite things about her. She closed her journal and shifted down in bed a bit; still clinging to the edge of sleep, Ann snuggled into her shoulder, one arm circling her waist. </p><p>“Pony,” she whispered, “be nice to Marian.” Anne tilted her head, trying not to laugh. “She is just - Argus is her son.” </p><p>For a few minutes there was nothing at all. Ann went back to snoring. Anne scrolled through her phone, checking weather and texting Aunt Anne and responding to a few emails from work. Then the soft, sleepy voice of her wife started up again.</p><p>“You feel so good, Pony.”</p><p>Anne turned to her sharply. This was new. Ann had never talked through a dirty dream before. In the past, she’d never even mentioned having one. </p><p>“That’s right, Pony.” Her hips rolled lazily; Anne stifled a gasp. “You like that, Pony?” Anne twisted her hips uncomfortably; how long before she could slip out of bed and relieve this tension? Or should she wake Ann up? Would she be embarrassed? “Yeah, Pony,” Ann rolled her hips again, “do that again.”</p><p>“Ann,” she hissed, but her wife was now - well, there was no other word for it - humping her leg. “Ann!”</p><p>“Oh, Pony, yeah,” she slurred.</p><p>“Ann,” she said sternly, nudging her leg back against Ann’s relentless hips.</p><p>Ann stilled, her eyes opening slowly, a gentle blush spreading across her cheeks. She smiled shyly and kissed Anne’s shoulder. Anne turned to face her and caught Ann’s lips. Neither of them spoke as Anne rolled her wife onto her back. Their kisses grew more heated, no doubt the residual arousal from her dream still coursing through Ann’s veins. Anne couldn’t deny that same twinge in her own center from her wife’s movements. Ann reached up and traced her hands through her hair, along her jaw, down her neck and then back into her hair again. She was certainly awake now, Anne figured, scooting down to kiss her neck, her shirt-clad sternum, the swell of each breast. </p><p>Ann’s legs spread, and Anne ducked under the covers. It was humid, a little dark, and Anne’s very definition of heaven. Her wife had not worn underwear to bed, which she appreciated tremendously. Ann was gloriously wet. Wet and open and waiting for her. Some dream, Anne thought as she wrapped her hands around Ann’s hips, sliding down to her calves, bending her knees, then running her palms up and down the tops of her creamy thighs. The first taste of her arousal on her tongue was nectar itself. Anne lapped at her core, filling her lungs with the heady scent of her wife’s arousal. Ann’s hand found the back of her head, guiding her silently; when was the last time they’d made love without speaking? </p><p>She worked steadily, dragging her tongue through her wife’s arousal, flicking over her clit, dipping as far between her folds as possible. Ann’s legs flexed under her hands and around her ears. Soft sighs dripped from her lips, growing higher, more frantic, less intelligible. She steadied Ann’s hips with her hands then took her clit between her lips; it never took long, not like this, and soon Ann’s legs clamped around her ears as she shuddered and cursed through her release. </p><p>It took a bit of effort to repress her smug grin, but Anne managed to do it. She kissed the inside of each of her wife’s thighs, the sharp point of her hip bones, the tender skin around her belly button. Then it was up along her ribs and below her breasts, around her breasts, on the swell of each other one. She lowered her head to Ann’s clavicle, but slender fingers wrapped in her hair and pulled her up. Their lips met slowly and deeply. By the time Anne pulled away, she couldn’t control that smug grin anymore.</p><p>“Good morning,” she whispered; Anne fancied she seemed a bit out of breath. </p><p>“What were you dreaming about?” Anne rolled onto her back next to her. </p><p>“Nothing,” was the quick answer as Ann looked away, sliding her hand under Anne’s t-shirt to lie flat against her stomach. “What time is it?”</p><p>“Don’t try to distract me. You were having a naughty dream.”</p><p>“No, I wasn’t.”</p><p>“You about threw your back out trying to mount my leg.”</p><p>“Anne!” She admonished. “Don’t be vulgar.”</p><p>“It’s an accurate description of your actions, my love,” Anne chuckled. “Tell me about your dream.”</p><p>Ann pouted, her hand still meandering across Anne’s belly. What a strange little person, Anne thought. Surely she had still felt that simmering arousal from her dream when she woke up; Anne had seen the proof between her legs. </p><p>“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Adney.”</p><p>“I know.” Her voice was small, childlike.</p><p>“What if I told you one of mine?”</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“I’ll tell you a naughty dream I had once, and then you tell me yours? Does that sound fair?”</p><p>“Okay,” Ann whispered, her face flushing a deeper pink. </p><p>Anne twisted in bed to face her, taking her small hands between her own. She kissed her knuckles quickly - a reassurance, a grounding, a prelude.</p><p>“I used to know this girl, Caroline Greenwood.”</p><p>“I know her!”</p><p>“Do you really?” Anne laughed. </p><p>“Halifax is not a very big town.”</p><p>“No, it’s not.” </p><p>“She was a few years ahead of me in school. Pretty girl.”</p><p>“I certainly thought so,” Anne grinned. “So I’d been sort of seeing her around town. Not alone, mind you, just - well, we’d run into each other, and I’d chat her up a bit.”</p><p>“I’m sure you did,” her wife giggled. </p><p>“What was I supposed to do, Adney?” She teased. “You would’ve been barely eighteen at the time. I was passing the time.” Ann chuckled and shook her head. “Right, so I liked to chat with young Miss Greenwood. I was just thirty, and she was, oh, twenty-one?”</p><p>“Hot,” Ann said facetiously. </p><p>“Exactly,” she squeezed Ann’s hands teasingly, “so I had this dream. I can still remember it, maybe because it was so vivid and maybe because I wrote it down.”</p><p>“Of course you did.”</p><p>Ann was loosening up, a smile tugging at her lips, a playful glint shining in her eyes. She changed like the wind - one moment shy and quiet, the next eagerly awaiting details from a wet dream.</p><p>“We were on this moor, and I ran into her. In that hazy way that dreams go, we went back to this shed. Barn. It was deserted and I think there was hay? It’s a blur.” Ann chuckled. “So, anyway, I got her up against this rough wood, and we’re going at it -”</p><p>“Going at what, Pony?” Ann’s voice was innocent, but her eyes betrayed her.</p><p>“I think you know.”</p><p>“Tell me,” and now her voice was sultry and low; a thrill ran up her spine.</p><p>“What do you want me to say? We were making out? My tongue was in her mouth, and her hands were digging into my skin.”</p><p>“It’s a start.”</p><p>At that, Anne nearly choked. Was she serious? </p><p>“Okay,” she said slowly, “so, we’re kissing, and it’s hot and kind of needy and, uh, well I felt a bit funny, and I looked down. I remember thinking we both looked down at found - oh, I don’t think I can tell you; it’s too outrageous.”</p><p>“No, it’s not.” Ann reached out to slip her hand along Anne’s hip. “What was it?”</p><p>“I had a penis,” she said softly, pressing her hips forward, “and I was rather hard.” Ann’s jaw hung open, her eyes wide and darting between Anne’s face and her crotch, as if, at any moment, she might actually sprout such an appendage. “And then - you know how it is in dreams - then we were -” Anne inhaled - was she going to skirt around this or be brave? She shifted closer to Ann, slipped one leg between hers, laid a hand across her waist. “We were fucking. Rather roughly. It was all I could do to hold her up, and I was so hot. I thought I was going to explode. It was different, sort of like wearing a strap, sort of not. I can still hear these wild, over-the-top sounds she made. There was this rough wood behind her, and she kept pressing into me, her chest was - well, you knew her, she had these incredible tits, right?”</p><p>“Tits!” Ann giggled. “Pony.”</p><p>“She did, didn’t she? Probably still does. Feels a bit weird to talk about her like that.” Anne frowned for a moment. “Anyway, I woke up, and I - I mean, my hips were still going.” Anne pumped her hips gently against Ann’s, slowly increasing the pace as she spoke. “I was so wet, and I was alone. I had to,” she inhaled sharply, her lips nearly touching Ann’s, “take care of myself.”</p><p>“I wish,” Ann slid her hand into Anne’s shorts, “I’d been there.”</p><p>“Me too,” Anne breathed, and for a moment she forgot herself, lost to the friction of their grinding hips and Ann’s hand kneading her ass. Then she remembered the whole reason she’d brought up Caroline Greenway in the first place. “Now, Adney, it’s your turn.”</p><p>Hesitation flashed across her blushing face, and Anne thought perhaps she’d pushed her too far. Then Ann looked up at her, under those delicate eyelashes, and smiled that shy kind of smile. </p><p>“I was thinking. Dreaming, I guess. About us shagging. The strap.”</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>“And, uh, we were here.”</p><p>“Here in this bed?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Here in this apartment?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Where, Adney?”</p><p>“On the counter. On the stairs.”</p><p>“The stairs?” Anne grinned, incredulous. “Wouldn’t that be bad for your back?” </p><p>“Well, I wasn’t,” Ann looked away, shaking her head, “I wasn’t on my back.”</p><p>“Oh, Adney,” Anne breathed. “That’s - uh - wow.”</p><p>“It’s silly.” She was still looking down, not meeting Anne’s gaze. “Forget it. Let’s go back to sleep.”</p><p>“Not a chance,” Anne said gently, hooking her forefinger under Ann’s chin and tilting her face upward. “Let’s do it.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“It’s the middle of the night.”</p><p>“It’s 5:58.”</p><p>“You’re ridiculous,” Ann laughed.</p><p>“Come on, Adney.” Anne pulled her close. “Let’s make that dream come true.”</p><p>“Pony,” she groaned, “I - it’s too much.”</p><p>“Too much?”</p><p>“It’s embarrassing.”</p><p>“Embarrassing?”</p><p>“To - you know, to have that dream.”</p><p>“You’re kidding,” Anne said flatly.</p><p>Her wife made a small sound of protest and flopped onto her back. Anne curled into her side, wrapping an arm around her waist. </p><p>“There is nothing embarrassing about having a naughty dream, Ann. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You don’t have to feel bad for wanting to have sex - for wanting to have sex with me.”</p><p>Ann said nothing; her face was still tight with frustration. Sometimes Anne forgot just how long her wife had spent in the closet. How many years she’d spent denying her sexuality to herself, then how many more denying it to the outside world. Sure, Elizabeth seemed to have known, but that didn’t matter. Ann still spent years misunderstanding, denying, and fighting her feelings. Even once she’d made peace within herself, she hadn’t told anyone until she started up with Anne. Now, even with the rings and the plans and the butch in her bed, Ann struggled to take ownership of her desires. Anne couldn’t fault her for that. In fact, her heart broke, just a bit, that Ann’s default, just-woke-up setting was shame. </p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked softly; Ann shook her head. “Okay. For a while, I was embarrassed about my dream. Confused, too. You know me and the gender binary,” she chuckled; Ann forced a smile. “Well, I struggled with it for a little while. It was hot, but what did that mean? That I thought it was hot. What were the implications? And I turned it over and over in my head, and I couldn’t figure it out. Until, one night, I had another dream. And in this dream, darling Adney, I was driving a spaceship. That spaceship was also a giant beaver. How’s that for symbolism?” Ann turned to face her - finally - laughing brightly and shaking her head. “A literal beaver. Big tail, long teeth, the whole nine. Yeah,” she shrugged as Ann’s giggles reached a crescendo, “at the end of the day, dreams are a load of crap. It doesn’t fucking matter, Adney. You can use it - to get off or to laugh or to delve deep into your psyche - or you can ignore it completely.”</p><p>Still giggling, Ann crawled on top of her. Her face was so bright - luminous really - and her intoxicating laughter filled the loft. She looked relieved. Relieved and relaxed and joyful. Anne fell in love with her all over again. She was beautiful, of course, with her slouchy nightshirt and tousled curls and those maddening collarbones. She was sexy too, the way her breasts sloped under her shirt, how easily she straddled Anne, the possessive hands on Anne’s stomach to steady herself. Most importantly, though, she was vibrant. Sweet and bright and <i>alive</i>. Her smile seemed too big for her face. Anne looped a hand in the front of her shirt and brought her down for a slow, searching kiss.</p><p>“Let’s do it,” Anne tried again in a whisper. “Don’t be embarrassed. Embrace it.”</p><p>“Okay,” she answered softly.</p><p>“Okay?”</p><p>“Okay, you big lug,” Ann laughed, scrambling off of her. “Go on.”</p><p>“Be careful, Adney,” she teased, slipping off her boxers. “You’d better be nice to me, or I might decide to go back to sleep.”</p><p>“Pony,” her wife whined, “come on.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Anne said haughtily, fixing the harness around her hips, “you’ve wounded me.”</p><p>“Have I?” Ann slipped out of bed, running one hand up Anne’s arm and into the hair at the nape of her neck. “You don’t look wounded.”</p><p>“How do I look?” Anne husked, fully aware of the figure she cut in her thin white t-shirt and harness. </p><p>“Incredible,” Ann breathed. </p><p>“Stairs or counter first?”</p><p>“Stairs.”</p><p>Grinning, Anne took her wife’s hand and carefully led her about halfway down. Anne sat down on one of the steps, her knees bent at right angles and feet resting a few steps below. With a tight grip on her hand, she led Ann around to sit on her lap, her knees bracketing Anne’s hips. The strap stood proudly between them. Anne set a bottle of lubricant next to her.</p><p>“Okay?” She asked.</p><p>“Yes,” Ann breathed, her forearms resting gently on Anne’s shoulders. </p><p>“Now,” Anne squeezed her hips playfully, “anything you care to share about this dream? Details? Something I can focus on?”</p><p>“You had one hand here.” She slid Anne’s hand under her shirt to grip her bare waist. “And one here.” She guided the other up to her breast. “Wait let me,” she pulled her shirt over her head, dropping it carelessly behind them. “Okay, yeah.”</p><p>“Just like this?” Anne husked, rolling her wife’s breast in her hand. </p><p>Ann nodded, leaning forward to kiss Anne. Slowly, the hunger built, and soon Ann was tilting her head, driving her tongue between Anne’s lips, groaning softly into the kiss; her hands were everywhere - in Anne’s hair, running down her arms, covering the hand on her own breast. Anne pulled back to catch her breath, and Ann twisted her hand in the front of her shirt, grinning and panting. </p><p>“Ready?” </p><p>Ann nodded, reaching for the lubricant and rolling the bottle between her hands. Right down to it, Anne thought with a hint of surprise, but this was Ann’s dream after all. She got to set the pace. Anne held out her hand, and Ann shot a generous dose of the liquid into her palm. Holding eye contact, Anne wrapped her hand around her cock, slowly coating it; it didn’t hurt that every stroke brushed the base against her clit. She returned her hands to Ann’s hips.</p><p>“Ready?” She asked again.</p><p>“Yes, Pony, yes.”</p><p>Ann lifted up on her knees, aligning her entrance with Anne’s cock, then eased down slowly. Anne watched her carefully, alert to any sign of distress, but her wife’s face showed only pleasure. Her lips parted, her eyes closed, her throat rumbled with a low moan as she filled herself, slowly, inch by inch. For a beat, they breathed in unison, letting Ann acclimate to the sensation of being filled so deeply and so fully. Then her eyes opened.</p><p>“Ready?”</p><p>“God, yes.”</p><p>“You can call me Pony,” she husked, leaning forward to press her lips to Ann’s neck. </p><p>They started a gentle, deep rhythm, while Anne snaked one hand up to Ann’s breast, as instructed. Mostly, Ann kept her own hands on Anne’s broad shoulders, using them as leverage, but then Anne started to buck, pressing her hips up into her, forcing her to go faster. Now, Ann tangled her fingers in Anne’s hair, curled them in the front of her shirt, dug them into her bicep. </p><p>“Getting what you wanted, Adney?”</p><p>“Yes,” Ann cried, breathless.</p><p>“Is this what you dream about? Getting fucked senseless?”</p><p>“Yes!” The same, high, breathy voice. Anne wanted to drown in it.</p><p>“Riding my cock?”</p><p>‘Pony!”</p><p>“Fuck, Ann, you’re so hot,” she panted as she thrust up into her, groaning at the tightness, the slippery wetness, the filthy sounds of their skin slapping together. She spanked her once, before returning her hand to its assigned spot around her waist. “Was I this good in your dream?”</p><p>“Yes,” Ann breathed, bending forward to burying her face in the crook of Anne’s neck.</p><p>“Or am I better?” Anne released her breast to find her clit, strumming it in time with her harsh thrusts.</p><p>“Better - fuck, Pony - that’s - you’re - right there, please, just - more.”</p><p>She could hardly deny such a sincere request. Wrapping one arm across Ann’s slick back and hooking over her shoulder, Anne pulled her flush, rutting her hips and flicking Ann’s clit. Her stomach burned from the effort, but, by God, it was worth it. Ann’s wanton cries filled her ear and ricocheted off the walls. She was close; Anne could feel it. With a final, wordless cry, Ann’s hips jerked, her walls clenched, and she shuddered into Anne’s chest. It was like shifting from fourth gear to first; Anne went from ruthless and rough, to patient and tender. She rolled her hips just a few times more, easing Ann through the aftershocks, until she straightened and fixed Anne with a crooked, tired smile. </p><p>“How’d we do?” Anne breathed, her own arousal coursing through her veins. </p><p>By way of answer, Ann crashed their lips together, rolling her hips and pressing the base of the strap against Anne’s core. Now that her wife had finished, Anne had room in her brain for her own release, and she found she was desperate. She pulled Ann’s head back, sure that urgency was written all over her own face. </p><p>“Adney.”</p><p>It was all she needed to say. With a steady hand on Anne’s shoulder, Ann lifted herself off the cock, sitting back on Anne’s knees. She fiddled with the buckles, loosening the harness enough to lay her core bare. Anne gasped at the rush of cool air. </p><p>“Quickly, Pony,” Ann whispered as she leaned closer and circled Anne’s clit. “So I can take you downstairs and lick you clean.”</p><p>With words like that? Only a few of Ann’s well-practiced strokes, and Anne was trembling, stretching backward, the sharp edge of the stair digging into her back. With a groan, she stilled. Relief flooded her body; she hadn’t realized how on-edge she’d been.</p><p>“Countertop?” Anne grinned, re-tightening the strap. </p><p>“Countertop.”</p><p>Carefully, they climbed down the last few stairs. At the bottom, Ann kissed her and tugged her shirt off. </p><p>“Why are you still wearing a shirt, Pony?”</p><p>“Truthfully? I wanted you to have something to grab onto. In case you leaned back too far, or -”</p><p>Ann kissed her again, her warm hands cupping Anne’s face. </p><p>“What was that for?” </p><p>“You’re so thoughtful,” Ann shrugged, hopping up on the counter. “I can’t believe how thoughtful you are.”</p><p>Rolling her eyes, Anne stepped between her spread legs. This counter was made for shagging; why hadn’t they done it earlier? It was half under the stairs, so there was no cabinet above. Ann could lean back to her heart’s content; no hunched shoulders or perching precariously on the edge. Anne took her wife’s face in her hands and kissed her slowly; Ann’s hands ran down her shoulders, along her biceps, lightly gripped her forearms. With a low growl, Anne pulled back and reached above her head for the bottle, still sitting on the stair just above them. </p><p>“Holy shit,” Ann breathed. </p><p>“What?” Anne warmed the bottle in her hand, then squirted a generous amount onto her hand. </p><p>“You just - it was just right there?” Ann looked up. “How tall are you? How long are these arms?”</p><p>Anne just shrugged and winked, coating the strap once again, then dragging a finger through her wife’s folds. </p><p>“Oh, Pony,” Ann squirmed, “fuck.”</p><p>“Now this part of the dream,” Anne continued her slow, teasing strokes, “what was going on?”</p><p>“This is where you woke me up.” Ann’s eyes were closed, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. “So I was just - you were just fucking me. Hard.”</p><p>“Hard?” Anne grinned, slipping two fingers inside. </p><p>“Really hard,” she breathed. </p><p>“Really hard,” Anne drawled, easing her fingers out. “We’ve got a long flight, baby; I don’t want you to be sore.”</p><p>“I don’t care.” Ann slid forward, reaching one hand out to pull Anne closer. “Will you do it, Pony? Please?”</p><p>“Of course,” Anne soothed. “Anything for you, darling.”</p><p>Their lips met in a deep, searching kiss. Anne trailed her hands from her wife’s cheeks, along her neck, over her breasts, down her sides, and, finally, to her hips. Ann quivered under her touch; her body rolled into the kiss, alternately pressing her breasts into Anne’s chest, or her hips forward toward Anne’s cock. A thin line of sweat began to collect along her hairline. By the time Anne dug her fingers into the supple skin around her waist, they were both breathless. </p><p>“Ready,” Ann answered, not waiting for her wife’s question.</p><p>Grinning at the impossibly perfect woman in front of her, Anne pulled her wife forward, guiding her cock slowly between her folds. When her hips met the inside of Ann’s thighs, they both groaned. Ann leaned back against the rough stone wall behind her and wrapped her legs around Anne’s waist. </p><p>“Fuck, you look so good,” Anne breathed.</p><p>Dipping her head, she took Ann’s breast in her mouth and started a slow, insistent grind. Her strokes were shallow, building in speed, searching for that spot within Ann that would make her scream. It was always a bit more difficult with the strap, but Anne was nothing if not determined. For a few blessed moments, they moved together like this; Ann pushed back into her thrusts, arched her breast into Anne’s mouth, tightened the grip of her arms around Anne’s back. Then Ann cried out. </p><p>“Pony!”</p><p>“There?” Anne asked, twisting her hips to find the spot again, breathless and analytical. </p><p>“Fuck, Pony, yes.”</p><p>That smug grin was back, and Anne took off. She thrust relentlessly into her wife, hands digging into her hips and holding her in place. The angle was difficult, the stone surely uncomfortable on Ann’s tender skin, but she had asked to be taken hard, hadn’t she? With the precision of Anne’s strokes and the filthy sounds coming out of Ann’s mouth, it certainly wouldn’t take long. </p><p>“Yes, Pony, there, I - fuck.” Ann was doing that mumbling thing again, her hips swirling into every sharp, merciless thrust. “Just there - I - oh, God, Pony, I - harder  - yes, just - fuck, I’m - yes, baby, I’m close, I’m - I’m going to-”</p><p>Anne could feel it, how close Ann was; she could feel it in the clutch of her fingers and the tightening of her core and the tireless, hungry roll of her hips. For as hard as Anne was taking her, Ann met her stroke for stroke. Their skin slapped together obscenely; Anne’s stomach and legs burned from exertion. The room was heavy with the smell of sex and the desperate, wordless cries slipping from Ann’s lips. With a final, sharp thrust, Anne sent her into oblivion. There was no other word for it but a scream, and Ann stretched taut, her hips juddering as Anne continued to rut into her. She found Ann’s clit, flicked it lightly, and Ann cried out again. Every muscle in her body seemed to contract, as she shook and moaned through her climax. </p><p>Anne shifted into first gear again, reining in her own wild passion in order to ease Ann back to earth. She slipped out gently, pulled Ann upright to lean onto her chest, ran a reassuring hand along her spine, and whispered softly in her ear. </p><p>“You did so well, darling. You’re so beautiful. I love you, Ann.”</p><p>Anne knew she needed this; her fragile wife responded well to these gentle encouragements in the direct aftermath of their more physical moments. It helped ground them both, bring them back to reality, remind each of them that all the roughness came from tenderness. It was properly sappy, Anne knew, but she craved it just as much as Ann did. </p><p>“Oh, Pony,” she sighed, opening her eyes. “Good heavens.”</p><p>With a soft smile, Anne tilted her head to bring their lips together gently. Ann nudged her backward, hopped from the counter, and dropped to her knees. Before Anne could say anything, Ann had removed the harness entirely and buried her face between Anne’s legs.</p><p>“Ann, fuck,” she gasped as Ann’s nimble tongue ran along the insides of her thighs.  She knew she was wet, coated in arousal, positively aching. “I won’t last long,” she warned, wrapping her fingers in her wife’s curly hair.</p><p>“Good,” Ann breathed against her center. “I’m getting sleepy.”</p><p>In the back of her mind, Anne knew they really didn’t have time to nap, would have to spend at least a few hours cleaning the apartment before they left, should really be getting ready to go even now. In the middle of her mind, she knew she would sooner miss their flight than deny her wife anything. In the front of her mind, she was consumed by the exquisite pressure of Ann’s tongue on her clit. It was rather unbelievable, wasn’t it? How insanely good her wife was at this. She leaned back against the wall, spreading her legs wider; Ann lapped at her core greedily, soft hands kneading her hips, her sides, her ass. </p><p>“Ann,” she breathed, tilting her hips up, “right there.”</p><p>Just a few more well-placed strokes, and Anne burst apart. She curled forward, warmth flooding her core and pulsing in her veins. She gasped and trembled, holding tightly to the back of Ann’s head, until she could sag back into the wall. For a few moments, she just breathed. Ann’s lips found hers, and she opened her eyes to find bright, proud blue eyes. </p><p>“You’re hot,” Ann whispered with a tiny grin.</p><p>“Am I?” </p><p>She allowed Ann to lead her up the stairs, leaving a mess on the ground floor. They could handle it when they got up for real.</p><p>“Your legs are so long,” Ann drawled, a sultry edge to her voice. “And your stomach - you know how I feel about that, and then, gosh, just everything. Your whole - everything about you.” Ann flopped onto the bed. “I’ve never seen anyone more attractive than you.”</p><p>“Say it again,” Anne teased, crawling into bed next to her.</p><p>“I’m serious, Pony.” Ann curled into her side. “You’re beautiful. Really.”</p><p>Anne scoffed. She supposed this was her default setting, just as Ann’s had been shame when she first woke up. Anne resorted to insecurity and doubts. Ann did too, actually. They were all the same thing, those emotions; they came from the same root of fear. Inadequacy and lack of trust. Even knowing and recognizing this, Anne prickled at being called beautiful. </p><p>“You are,” Ann said firmly. “I won’t have you thinking poorly of yourself, Anne Lister. You’ve worked very hard to have a body that is strong and capable and agile and everything else, but you’re also beautiful. It’s important to me that you know that.”</p><p>“Okay,” Anne managed on a dry throat. “I know that.”</p><p>“Say it.”</p><p>“Say what?”</p><p>Ann propped herself on an elbow, hovering over Anne and rolling her eyes. </p><p>“Say ‘I’m beautiful.’”</p><p>“You’re beautiful,” Anne dodged, tracing a finger between Ann’s breasts. </p><p>“Anne,” her wife warned, catching her finger in her fist. “Say it.”</p><p>Her little face was so resolute. Anne sighed. </p><p>“I’m beautiful,” she whispered.</p><p>“Excuse me?” Ann cupped a hand around her ear.</p><p>“I’m beautiful,” she said, a bit louder.</p><p>“Once more?”</p><p>“I’m beautiful,” she cried in exasperation.</p><p>“Yes, you are, Pony,” Ann said happily, snuggling back into her chest. “Now go to sleep. It’s the middle of the night.”</p><p>“It’s -”</p><p>“Don’t you dare tell me what time it is.“</p><p>“Sweet dreams,” Anne chuckled. “Not too sweet, though, eh? We haven’t got the time.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>S. mentioned Ann having a bit of a dirty dream and moving in her sleep, so, obviously, we had to do that. The Caroline Greenwood stuff based on “Foolish fancying about Caroline Greenwood, meeting her on Skircoat Moor, taking her into a shed there is there &amp; being connected with her. Supposing myself in men’s clothes &amp; having a penis, tho’ nothing more. All this is very bad. Let me try to make a great exertion &amp; get the better of this lazyness [sic] in a morning” May 7, 1821. Who among us can say they <i>haven’t</i> made themselves late in the morning fantasizing about some girl? </p><p>I don’t know how old Caroline Greenwood was, but Anne always seemed to be chasing after a “girl.” Besides Pic, Tib, and Mariana, it always seemed to be younger women. Maybe not. </p><p>Now, if I tell y’all I wanted to write a little flashback to Young Pup Anne Lister in the next chapter, would that be...bad? Let me know, so I can do something else. </p><p>Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Brokenheartsville</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Tell me a story,” Ann said sleepily, leaning her back against Anne’s shoulder.</p><p>They were snuggled up and reclined in their seats on the plane. With no one in the row behind them, they could recline with impunity; that, plus their first class seats, meant they had almost too much space. With all the rushing around they’d had to do to get here on time, Anne was grateful for the chance to stretch out and relax. She was also grateful Ann’s back would have the same opportunity. Anne leaned against the window, one arm draped around her wife’s shoulders, the other fiddling with her hand in her lap. The plane-issued blanket stretched over their bottom halves. She had been contemplating a nap when Ann’s soft voice cut in.</p><p>“What kind of story?”</p><p>“From when you were younger. Something funny. Something with Tib.”</p><p>“Something with Tib?” Anne wrinkled her nose. “She’s not very funny.”</p><p>“She totally is,” Ann chuckled. “You just don’t want to admit it.”</p><p>Anne hummed, searching her mind for a story that would put Tib in a bad light. She didn’t want her wife to think Tib had always been as easy to be around as she was with Pic. For years and years, Anne had suffered through her shaking hands and rancid breath and emotional, drunken meltdowns. Perhaps she could tell a story that would paint her as a sympathetic hero, and Tib as the drunken slob that she’d been for so long. Not that Anne begrudged Tib her sobriety. She just wanted to be sure Ann liked her the best. A totally normal reaction to her wife meeting and enjoying the company of her oldest friend. </p><p>“Ok, I’ve got one. This was, oh, thirteen or fourteen years ago.”</p><p>“What were you wearing?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“2007 Anne Lister, what did she look like?”</p><p>Anne tried to think back; she really felt she’d always looked the same. There was an easy elegance to the all black. That, and she could save on new clothes. Except, hadn’t she had a bit of a leather jacket phase? Oh, Lord.</p><p>“Well, uh, I was wearing all black.”</p><p>“Be specific,” Ann urged, squeezing her hand.</p><p>“On this night, I think I was wearing black jeans and boots.”</p><p>“What kind of boots? Tall or short? Did they lace up or zip?”</p><p>“Ann! What is it with you and my clothes?”</p><p>“Just trying to paint a picture, Pony.”</p><p>“Okay, yes,” Anne sighed, “they laced up. Thick-soled shit kickers, okay? I felt pretty bloody confident in them.”</p><p>“Sounds hot.”</p><p>“Don’t you start,” Anne laughed. “I was in a - well, a bit of a phase back then.”</p><p>“What kind of phase?” Ann’s sultry voice dripped with intrigue. </p><p>“I wore a leather jacket.”</p><p>“Pony.” Ann turned sharply to face her. “Do you still have it?”</p><p>“Yes. I’ve worn it before. You’ve worn it before.”</p><p>“Oh,” Ann’s face fell and she leaned back against her, “I forgot. You should wear that more often.”</p><p>“I’ll keep it in mind,” she chuckled, “so, anyway, I was in this bar. In my leather jacket.”</p><p>She could see Ann’s eyes drift closed, and she lost herself in the quiet retelling of a particularly embarrassing and drunken night.</p><p> “I was supposed to meet Mariana. As usual. Tib had this apartment - not the one she has now - and she’d let me bring Mary there if we wanted to meet in London. Which we sometimes did. It was easier to go out together there. Easier to hide. We had this bar that we loved - The Thirty-Third. It was awful. Everything stunk of sour beer and stale smoke, but it was cheap and the girls were cute. I’m not sure how we stumbled on a lesbian dive bar, but we certainly did. You could never get in the toilet at that place; there was <i>always</i> somebody in there shagging. Atrocious.</p><p>So Mary’s late, and it’s probably ten o’clock by this point. She’s a few hours late, really, and Tib and I are getting drunk. Completely and totally plastered. Which was easy with TIb, because it took her six beers to even get close to tipsy. Follow along with her, and you’re likely to lose your liver.”</p><p>Ann chuckled, breaking Anne from her reverie for a moment. </p><p>“Right, it sounds fun, but it was awful. I had to peel her off this poor girl before there was a full-out brawl. It sounds bad, but, uh, I’d - you know, I knew this girl, too. We’d - well, we’d met, and her -”</p><p>“Did you shag her?” Ann interrupted. </p><p>“I - well - yes, Adney,” Anne sputtered, “I did, what do you want me to say?”</p><p>“Ridiculous,” her wife sighed, “absolutely and totally incorrigible.”</p><p>“Be that as it may,” Anne drawled, “I knew for a fact that this girl had a pretty, uh, strong girlfriend, and I didn’t really want to watch Tib get her nose broken again. So I yanked her back toward the bar, and she found this different girl to chat up. At least, that’s what she tried. In actuality, she put one hand on the girl’s knee, the other on the bar, and in the process, managed to spill her entire pint down the front of this girl’s dress.”</p><p>Ann murmured softly. </p><p>“I know, I know,” she chuckled, “Tib was a wreck, but I couldn’t even help her, because I was getting the text from Mary. ‘Cannot come. Big row with C. Missing you already.’ I mean - how could I deal with that? She missed me, but she won’t come to see me. She fought with her husband, but she won’t leave him. Won’t even give me a call. A bloody text message.”</p><p>Ann said nothing. Perhaps Anne shouldn’t have brought Mariana up at all. </p><p>“Yeah, well,” Anne shifted uncomfortably, “it sucked. It always did. This kind of thing kept happening, and - well, there was only one remedy. Get absolutely blasted. Tib and I do shot after shot until the room is spinning and I am confidently telling strangers that we are, in fact, on a boat.”</p><p>She’d felt certain that would get a laugh from Ann, but she was met with silence. Twisting her neck around, she saw her wife’s face - asleep. Anne clicked her tongue. Totally and completely asleep. She shouldn’t have been surprised. In a reclined position, Anne’s low, storytelling voice had an almost instant effect on her wife. All those nights reading in bed. Poor Ann probably was tired, she could admit. She relaxed back against the seat, her mind drifting to that night. </p><p>
  <i>He wore that cowboy hat to cover up his horns</i>
</p><p>“Lister!” The burly shape that Anne understood to be Tib advanced toward her. “Why the hell have you put this on the bloody jukebox?”</p><p>“Fuck off,” Anne moped, her tired head falling into her hands. “This song is my life.”</p><p>
  <i>Before I turned around, that girl was gone,<br/>
All I can say is ‘bartender, pour me somethin’ strong’</i>
</p><p>Tib must’ve done something, because two fresh shots appeared in front of them. Anne gulped hers down, groaning at the burn of the whisky before bellowing along with the song. </p><p>
  <i>“Here’s to the past, they can kiss my glass.<br/>
I hope she’s happy with him.<br/>
Here’s to the girl, who wrecked my world,<br/>
That angel who did me in”</i>
</p><p>“Alright, buddy,” Tib cajoled, “let’s get up. How’s a round of darts sound?”</p><p><i>“I’ve got time to kill,”</i> Anne sang, her eyes closed and her expression pained, <i>“down in Brokenheartsville.”</i></p><p>“God, you’re annoying.” Tib pulled her toward the dartboard. “Here we are.”</p><p>“The fuck am I supposed to throw a dart?” Anne whined, swaying against her friend. “I’m drunk, and I’m sad.”</p><p>“Pretend that dartboard,” Tib pointed her toward the wall, “is Charles’s fat, ruddy face.”</p><p><i>“Love’s gone to hell, and so have I,”</i> Anne chucked her dart, spearing it in the drywall next to the board. “Oh, bollocks.”</p><p>“Focus,” Tib crowed, wrapping her arm around a passing woman. “And how are you tonight?”</p><p>“Too good for you,” the stranger said curtly, twisting out of Tib’s embrace with a grimace.</p><p>“Not good, Isabella,” Anne scolded. “Shouldn’t be touching young ladies without their consent.” </p><p>Her next dart bounced off the board and onto the floor.</p><p>“Oh, be quiet, you,” Tib called from the bar - when had she gone over there? “What was the excuse this time?”</p><p>“A big row.” </p><p>Anne’s final dart landed on just the outer ring. She considered it a massive victory. Tib pressed a sweaty pint into her hand. </p><p>“Prick,” Tib offered in support, gathering the darts in one hand, her own sweaty pint in the other. “Let’s kill him.”</p><p>“No, no.” Anne took a hearty sip of beer. She was at that perfect level of inebriation; if she stopped right now, she’d wake up with no hangover. If she kept going, she would almost certainly do something she regretted. And vomit on Tib’s bathroom floor. She took another sip. “He hasn’t set up the will. That’s the whole fucking issue.”</p><p>“But, Lister,” Tib’s first dart landed just outside the bull’s eye, “when is that going to happen?” The next was closer. “Who the hell is going to set up a will that provides for a wife even in case of separation or divorce?” Dead center. “It’s never going to happen.”</p><p>“She says it can.” Anne pulled the darts from the board. “I believe her.”</p><p>“But why? She’s given you no reason to think that she’ll ever leave him.”</p><p>“She tried - you remember? Few years ago, I think. Just after I inherited Shibden.” Anne spotted a curvy brunette across the bar. She sized her up as she spoke. “I sent her away.”</p><p>“No,” Tib drawled, “she didn’t follow through because she thought she was pregnant.”</p><p>Anne turned sharply to her friend. Her booze-soaked brain rejected this word: friend. Tib was being such an ass, wasn’t she? Mary had her reasons. She would come to Anne as soon as she could. Things just came up. If Tib weren’t so pathetic, she could get her own woman, instead of hanging around waiting for the scraps of Anne. She shoved the darts into Tib’s hand. </p><p>“Go fuck yourself,” Anne slurred. She crossed the room, sidling up to that brunette. “Can I buy you a drink?”</p><p>“I’ve got one,” the girl answered. “Thank you though.”</p><p>Even in her buzzed state, Anne could see the girl was interested. A faint blush on her cheeks. Angling her body toward Anne’s. Licking her lips and touching her neck. It was too easy. </p><p>“What’s your name?”</p><p>“Marissa.”</p><p>Close enough.</p><p>“Anne.”</p><p>She held out her hand, taking the girl’s in her own, twisting it up to her lips. Marissa bit her lip and angled her hips almost imperceptibly upward. Anne was almost bored with how simple this was. </p><p>“Fancy a smoke?” She held out a pack. Marissa nodded. “Great.”</p><p>Just outside, it was chilly, but not cold. Marissa’s dress was too thin; if Anne had been sober, she would’ve offered the girl her jacket. Instead, she lit her a cigarette and then one for herself. For a moment, they smoked in silence. </p><p>“Here with friends?” Anne asked.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Your boyfriend?”</p><p>“Hardly,” Marissa chuckled.</p><p>“Girlfriend?”</p><p>“We just broke up.”</p><p>Anne had to control herself; this moment was key. She wanted to grin broadly at how easy this was going to be, but she couldn’t. She took on a grave expression and stepped closer.</p><p>“Are you serious? Whoever she is, she’s a fool.”</p><p>Marissa giggled and shook her head. </p><p>“I mean this honestly,” Anne said, her voice low and rough, “you’re the hottest girl in that bar.”</p><p>“What? No.” Marissa was blushing again, looking at the ground.</p><p>“I would never lie.” Anne raised her right hand, an approximation of a scout salute. “Not to a beautiful woman.”</p><p>“You’re not so bad yourself,” Marissa managed. She bit her lip and reached out to trace her fingers along the zipper of Anne’s jacket. “You’re very - uh - handsome.”</p><p>“Am I?” Anne flicked her butt to the ground. She took a step forward; Marissa took a step back. “Can I kiss you, Marissa?”</p><p>This was the moment - that delicate moment right between failure and success. Had she rushed it? Was she misreading the signals? Would she have to go back in there and grovel to Tib?</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>No more than a breath. Anne smiled, soft and reassuring, reaching one hand out to cup Marissa’s cheek. As much as this was a game to her, as much as she saw Marissa as a momentary distraction, she did, actually, feel intensely for her. Anne never wanted to be rough with a woman, not unless they asked. Her callous approach was a form of defense; if she treated Marissa as no more than a conquest, then she couldn’t get her feelings hurt. Even if Marissa rejected her or laughed in her face. Nothing could be hurt if nothing was available. </p><p>She kissed this stranger gently, tenderly holding her face in her hands. It was short, this first kiss, but it would give Marissa enough to see that Anne was certainly prepared to make her feel good. The little alley was deserted. No one much came down this street anyway. If Marissa wanted - </p><p>“Anne?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Would you - would you fuck me?”</p><p>Anne couldn’t control the broad grin on her face or the surprised delight in her eyes. Had it really been this easy? She smoothed her thumbs along this stranger’s face.</p><p>“Is that what you want?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Marissa said resolutely. “Can we do it here? Just - um, nothing serious, but -”</p><p>There it was. Anne was never something serious. What could she expect? She hadn’t tried to take this girl home, hadn’t asked for her phone number or even her last name. She was lucky, frankly, to get this much from her. </p><p>“I understand,” she said easily. “I won’t hold you to anything.”</p><p>Anne leaned in, kissing Marissa again, this time deeper, exploring her mouth and trailing a hand down to her hip. Marissa slid her hands under Anne’s jacket, along the broad plane of her back. It was all staccato, well-practiced movements in a play Anne knew by heart. Their hips rolled together. Anne pushed her back into the wall. Marissa moaned into her mouth. Anne bit her lip, then moved down to her neck. Marissa breathed heavily in her ear. Anne caressed her breast, kissed her jugular, pressed her hips more firmly forward. </p><p>And then Tib appeared.</p><p>“Lister!” She bellowed. “I’m going home, and you’re taking me.”</p><p>“Fuck off,” Anne said, barely turning her head. “I’m busy.”</p><p>“You’re busy coming with me.” Tib marched over and grabbed her by the arm. Anne sputtered in protest. “Lovely to meet you,” Tib told Marissa, gasping in confusion against the wall, “but this one’s got to get home. Your girlfriend’s inside looking for you.”</p><p>“Oh, bloody hell, Tib,” Anne groaned as they rounded the corner; Tib lived less than a block away, which was part of the draw of the bar in the first place. “She told me they were broken up.”</p><p>“You can’t trust everything people tell you in a bar.”</p><p>“Tib,” Anne groaned, leaning into her side as they climbed the stairs, “why can’t I do anything right? I can’t - fuck, I can’t even get an alleyway shag done right.”</p><p>“You’re looking in the wrong places,” Tib chuckled, unlocking the door. “You don’t have your eye on the ball.”</p><p>“Well, I hate it,” she whined, dragging her feet down to the spare bedroom. The one she’d hoped to be curled up in with Mariana right about now. “This sucks.”</p><p>“Yeah, it does,” Tib appeared in the doorway, tumbler of scotch in hand. “You could make it easier on yourself.”</p><p>“How’s that?”</p><p>“Tell Mariana to fuck off.”</p><p>“Tib,” she groaned, burying her face in a pillow, “you know I can’t do that.”</p><p>“You’ll never be happy until you do.”</p><p>“You’re a prick, you know that?”</p><p>“Am I?”</p><p>“Yeah, and you drink too bloody much!”</p><p>“And you’re wasting your time with Mariana!”</p><p>They stared at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. It was always like that with Tib. At each other’s throats one minute, then best of friends the next. Anne couldn’t figure out why Tib hadn’t tossed her over as well, like everyone else. Tib drained her glass then sat down heavily next to Anne. </p><p>“Want to fool around?”</p><p>“What?” It was almost a sigh; how many times could Anne get her hopes up tonight? Was it worth a quick fumble with Tib? Just for the release of it?</p><p>“Why not?” Tib shrugged. “We’re pretty good at it.”</p><p>“We’re bloody brilliant at it,” Anne corrected, “but I don’t think it’s good for you. For either of us.”</p><p>“Just a quick one.” Tib’s eyes were so earnest, so vulnerable. Anne knew, in that moment, she wouldn’t deny her. “Come on, Anne. Doesn’t have to mean anything. Just as friends.”</p><p>Anne nodded, slowly, leaning in to catch Tib’s rough, chapped lips. They moved together easily; Anne knew Tib’s body almost as well as she knew Mariana’s. She rolled Tib onto her back, pressing one knee between her -</p><p>“Pony?” Ann stirred, and Anne shot back to reality. She shook herself, trying to rid her mind of the image of Tib’s face below hers. “You stopped talking.”</p><p>“You fell asleep,” she teased. “That story was boring anyway.”</p><p>“Tell me a different one. One with me in it.”</p><p>“Okay,” Anne said, thinking carefully. “Okay, here’s one.”</p><p>Ann made a soft sound of contentment and pulled Anne’s arm more tightly around her.</p><p>“There was a day, middle of June, where you chased me down. Do you remember?” Ann nodded. “You must’ve been 18, just barely, and you were wearing this incredible little dress. Blue. Tight around the chest and flowing around your legs. But so short, Miss Walker, and you were out of breath, so - I mean, I couldn’t help but notice your chest.”</p><p>“Notice what about my chest?” </p><p>“Well,” Anne hedged, “you know, just - you seemed so short of breath.”</p><p>“Was that it?” Ann giggled. “Nothing else?”</p><p>“Perfectly innocent, my love.”</p><p>“I bet.”</p><p>“It’s not <i>my</i> fault if you have excellent tits.”</p><p>“Such a charmer,” her wife chuckled. “Is that all you remember from that day?”</p><p>“No, I remember - I remember a great deal.”</p><p>“Like what?” </p><p>“Well, you had clearly just chased me down, which was flattering. You had on these little flat loafers, and they’d gotten all dirty.”</p><p>“My feet were, like, one big blister after that,” Ann murmured; Anne could tell she was getting sleepy again. </p><p>“You were adorable. You had a little bob, and your curls were so bouncy.” Anne kissed the top of her head. “It was a very nice way to spend an afternoon.”</p><p>Ann’s breathing had evened out, and Anne held her a bit tighter. She closed her own eyes and let her mind drift back to that day. </p><p>It was around the same time as that horrible night with Tib, a few months later. It was a perfectly warm June day, and she’d been hurrying home. Ann’s faint voice reached her ears, but she hadn’t realized the girl was calling for her. When Ann had reached her, the poor thing was out of breath, bent over with her hands on her knees as she panted. What a strange little creature, Anne thought as she enjoyed the view down Ann’s dress. She really did have some great breasts.</p><p>“Miss Walker, to what do I owe this pleasure?”</p><p>“I - uh - I just - oh, well I - uh, would you walk with me? Just to, uh, to Lidget? If you’re going that way? Or, uh, is Shibden that way?”</p><p>“In fact it is,” Anne smiled as they started to walk. “What a happy coincidence.”</p><p>She had been aware of the youngest Walker’s infatuation for a few years now, but, of course, she was much too young. Barely eighteen, if Anne remembered correctly. Mariana wouldn’t blame her for a conversation with a pretty girl, would she?</p><p>“Are you in university?” Anne asked, slowing her pace to match her short companion.</p><p>“Uh, well - yes,” the girl rushed; Anne thought she could detect a hint of uneasiness about her, but then the girl always seemed to be that way. “I was - I <i>am</i> studying art.”</p><p>“A worthy subject,” Anne pronounced. “Especially for a beautiful girl like yourself.”</p><p>Ann blushed and shook her head; Anne regarded her curiously. She seemed so sheltered and shy, but she’d just chased Anne down the street? Why?</p><p>“If I weren’t so sensible, I’d wonder about your intentions, Miss Walker.”</p><p>“What?” The girl turned to her in alarm. “No, I - uh, we’re just going the same way. Not that - I mean, not that I wouldn’t like to see you again.”</p><p>“Would you?” Anne purred, placing a hand on the small of Ann’s back. Just for a moment. The girl didn’t even seem to mind, she noted with a satisfied smile.</p><p>“Yes, you should - you should come for tea. Sometime. If you’re not too busy.”</p><p>“I should hope I never find myself too busy to spend a bit of time with you, my dear.”</p><p>Ann gave a sort of excited squeak, and Anne turned to her with a questioning look. They locked eyes and burst out laughing. Anne put an arm around her narrow shoulders and pulled the giggling, blushing girl to her side. Just for a moment. </p><p>“How about a walk, Miss Walker? To Giles House? Sometime when you’re free?” </p><p>“Yes!” </p><p>“Okay then,” Anne chuckled, “it’s a date.”</p><p>Sure, it was a bit misleading, but it didn’t hurt anyone. Flirting with this girl was as easy as breathing. She was cute, eager, and breathless. Fresh-faced and curly-haired. A rather delicious little package in a short skirt.</p><p>“Where were you coming from?” Ann asked.</p><p>“Visiting friends in town,” Anne said flippantly, with a wave of her hand. “But you, Miss Walker, where were you running from?”</p><p>“Oh - uh - I was - I was having lunch. With my friend. Catherine Rawson? We were just - it doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“Did you have a good time?”</p><p>“I can’t remember,” Ann breathed.</p><p>The walk to Lidget was pleasant and passed much more quickly than she’d liked. Had it really been almost an hour? Ann was surprisingly interesting. She was a good listener, paid rapt attention to Anne’s stories, and could be incredibly funny when she did offer up an opinion. Anne couldn’t believe how much she was smiling; when was the last time she’d enjoyed herself this much? They were approaching the gate to Lidget, which Anne hated to admit was as far as she could reasonably walk with this girl. Mariana couldn’t blame her for some casual conversation, but following a beautiful girl home? That was a bit far. They’d recommitted after that wretched night with Marissa and Tib, and Anne was determined to be faithful. Conversation didn’t count.</p><p>“Have you been abroad, Miss Walker?” </p><p>“Never.”</p><p>“You must go! You haven’t lived until you’ve traveled.”</p><p>“Oh, I,” Ann shook her head and looked down. They’d reached the gate, but neither of them moved past it. Anne knew this girl was entranced with her, but the surprise was how much she had entranced Anne in turn. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”</p><p>“Perhaps I could show you,” Anne said softly, stepping closer. She reached out, her hand itching to stroke the flushed cheek of this strangely mesmerizing young woman, but she just tucked an errant blonde hair behind her ear. “Take care of yourself, Ann Walker.”</p><p>There was a moment, perhaps half of a moment, when Anne thought she might kiss this blonde girl with the soft face and deep blue eyes. She didn’t. Of course not. She was committed to Mary, even if she had to wait. It was a passing thought. A flight of fancy. Just a moment in time. </p><p>Her phone rang. They jumped apart, as if they’d been caught. She reached in her pocket for her flip phone, then smiled regretfully at her companion. Ann’s blue eyes swam with disappointment; her whole face seemed to have dimmed.</p><p>“I’d better go. I -” Anne stopped herself from making a promise she couldn’t keep. “It was nice walking with you.”</p><p>Ann just nodded and turned away. Anne watched her go, the ring of her phone sounding more shrill than usual. What an enlightening afternoon. She’d been in this isolation for weeks, a sort of penance for straying in that alley and in Tib’s bed. But it was damn hard work, living without Mary. Without any female companionship. She felt more energized from this conversation than she had in the sum total of the last few weeks. It didn’t hurt anyone just to have a conversation. Just to enjoy the company of a woman who seemed to adore her. It was nice to be appreciated, looked up to, admired, for a change. Even for a moment.</p><p>Her phone stopped ringing, and she flipped it open. Mary. Damn. She called her back as she set off for Shibden. </p><p>“Yes, Mary, I’m sorry I was -” she looked over her shoulder to the Lidget gate; she felt a strange twinge in her stomach that Ann Walker’s blonde head wasn’t looking back at her. “I was just speaking to Aunt. Yes, yes, I…”</p><p>Anne drifted back to the present: the hum of the plane, the warmth of Ann’s body, the clasp of their hands. Ann’s left hand in hers. Two engagement rings. How incredibly far they’d both come. She wondered how much time she could’ve saved if she’d actually called on Ann for that walk. If she’d come for tea right away, instead of waiting more than a decade. Would they have been ready? Would she have had more time with Ann in this perfect, blissful bubble or would they have fizzled out? She wanted to mourn the wasted years, but she suspected they’d gotten the timing just right.</p><p>Back then, she would’ve been cheating on Mariana. It would be three more years before the Three Steps incident that caused the fatal rift. Ann had said, that day, that she was still in school, but now Anne knew she’d dropped out by then. She wasn’t ready either. Neither of them were. </p><p>“Pony,” her wife stirred, draping her right hand over Anne’s knee and drawing lazy circles. “What did you think of me? On that day?”</p><p>“I thought you were beautiful,” she answered honestly. “Young. Bright and flirty and sweet.”</p><p>“You never came to get me for that walk.”</p><p>“I know,” she sighed. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Me too,” Ann said thoughtfully. “I don't think I - gosh, I don’t think I could’ve handled it.” </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Being - uh, being with you. The maturity - I just didn’t have it. Emotionally, I - I think I could’ve done it. You’re so gentle with me, and -” Anne squeezed her hand, “well, the physical stuff would’ve been too much for me. So I’m - I’m glad we came together when we did.”</p><p>“Me too,” Anne said. “Though the physical stuff,” she teased, sinking lower so that Ann’s aimless hand moved up her thigh, “I think, my darling, you’re a natural.”</p><p>Ann’s level of comfort with sex was more than that, they both knew, but Anne was never one to pass up an opportunity to massage her wife’s ego with a dirty compliment.</p><p>“But, really, Adney.” Ann’s hand traced higher; they were still covered by the blanket, but it was rather risky, wasn’t it? “I’m glad. We found each other. Now.”</p><p>“I am too.” Ann twisted to face her. “Meet me in the loo?”</p><p>For a moment, Anne hesitated. That long walk down memory lane had made her a little melancholy. It would be more romantic if she demurred, wouldn’t it? More poignant just to enjoy the tender, innocent embrace of her wife. But she was Anne Lister, and the unfortunate fact about being Anne Lister was that she was always, always willing to sacrifice the poignant and romantic and innocent for the tawdry and fast and hot. </p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Ann went first, since she was on the aisle. Anne crept up behind her exactly one hundred and thirty-three seconds later. Ann’s mouth was on hers in an instant, hands cupping her face and roaming into her hair. She pressed Anne back into the flimsy plastic door, grinding her hips insistently. Anne held onto her hips, trailed a hand up to her chest, cupped her cheeks. Nimble fingers tugged open her jeans and slipped into her shorts. With only a few gentle strokes, Ann brought her to the brink. All those years ago, had this potential been coiled within eighteen-year-old Ann Walker? Had it been in Anne? This giving of herself, the total surrender to Ann’s needy lips and hungry hands - had she been capable of it?</p><p>“Fuck,” she gasped as Ann honed in on her clit. “Ann.”</p><p>Ann kissed her neck tenderly, even as her fingers worked her to a fever pitch. Her hand ran along Anne’s back and up to the nape of her neck. Digging her teeth into her bottom lip, Anne repressed the urge to cry out as the first wave crashed into her. It overwhelmed her - the residual emotion from the memories, from the week in Paris, from Ann’s embrace in their seats. The culmination of years of denial and heartache and frustration - unraveled under the careful touch of Ann Walker. </p><p>It wasn’t until she got back to her seat that she realized she’d started crying. Ann slid into her seat next to her, bright smile faltering when she saw Anne’s face. </p><p>“What is it? What’d I do?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Anne smiled, wiping her eyes. “Oh, I just love you.”</p><p>“I love you, Pony.” </p><p>Ann kissed her cheek and took her hand. With a snort of laughter, Anne shook her head. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Being herself. Because the truth about being Anne Lister, deep down, was that the romantic and the tawdry were intrinsically linked. There was no way to separate the emotions from the physical, not for Anne. She’d tried. Good Lord, she’d tried. That was the basic misunderstanding underpinning all her scrapes. Even Mary had failed to recognize the link between feelings and sex, or, perhaps, had manipulated that connection. All the rest wanted only the physical (how many of those faceless women had even asked her name?) or only the emotional (Vere’s apologetic refusal loomed in her mind). </p><p>“You know what I was thinking, that day we walked together?” Ann asked softly. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“How badly I wanted to marry you.”</p><p>There was nothing to do but kiss her. Anne held her face in her hands, kissing her gently before pulling away to marvel at this delicate, precious creature. Ann had wanted both. She’d wanted a physical, emotional connection, even back then. Ann Walker understood both. She understood all of it. She was everything.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>Today’s lesbian tasks:<br/>1. rescue lost cat<br/>2. miscellaneous yard work<br/>3. write about yearning</p><p>I almost wrote the Tib/Anne sex scene...maybe one day...or is that weird?</p><p>Ann(e) flashback walk from “got past Pump when Miss Ann Walker of Crownest overtook me, having run herself almost out of breath. Walked with her as far as the Lidget entrance to their own grounds &amp; got home at 6.40. Made myself, as I fancied, very agreeable &amp; was particularly civil &amp; attentive in my manner. I really think the girl is flattered by it &amp; likes me. She wished me to drink tea with them. I hoped for another walk to Giles House &amp; the readiness she expressed shewed that my proposition was by no means unwelcome. She has certainly no aversion to my conversation &amp; company. After parting I could not help smiling to myself &amp; saying the flirting with this girl has done me good. It is heavy work to live without women’s society &amp; I would far rather while away an hour with this girl, who has nothing in the world to boast but good humor, than not to flirt at all” June 12, 1821. </p><p>What do we think? Fun to see a Young Anne or nah? Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. This Old Bucket</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Being back home, Ann thought with a satisfied sigh, now meant being back at Shibden. It was rather extraordinary, wasn’t it? Living in this broody old house. Walking through the door without a thought. It was well past dark by the time she and Anne arrived; she had thought she might cry from happiness at seeing Thomas lounging against her car at the train station. The drive had seemed unending, but now, finally, she was just moments away from being reunited with her family and her bed. </p><p>It came as a surprise, however, that no one greeted them at the door when Thomas pulled into the drive. Joseph did, of course, and went about unloading their bags, but the family was nowhere to be seen. Anne gave her a quizzical look, and they went inside. <br/>Walking through the dark halls to the back of the house took her breath away. She’d forgotten how alive the walls felt, how the wood clicked under her feet, how the entire place smelled like old books and lemony cleaner, with a hearty dose of Argus underneath. Anne strode ahead of her, clearly preoccupied by the family’s absence at the door, so Ann took her time admiring the smooth wood, the faded photos, the hallmarks of the place she called home. Not so long ago, walking through this very hall gave her chills. Before she moved in, before the quarantine, she’d always felt such a rush being here, in the inner sanctum. The Listers did not entertain visitors, almost as a rule, so the house had an air of mystery about it. It thrilled her even more, now, that she was part of these mysteries. Her scarf hung by the door and she knew which stairs creaked and she could probably (probably) recount most (some) of the estate’s history.</p><p>This peaceful reflection was interrupted, however, by shouting. Ann groaned, picking up her pace and following the sound of her wife’s voice to the living room. There, a tableau of sisterly strife, stood Anne and Marian, bracketing the fireplace. Argus lounged at their feet, seemingly unaware of the chaos above him. Where were Aunt Anne and Captain Lister? </p><p>“You’re not speaking to him?” Anne demanded. “To your father?”</p><p>“I’m not,” Marian answered resolutely. “I won’t, and you shouldn’t either.”</p><p>“You’re being unreasonable, Marian.”</p><p>Ann followed the volleys like a tennis match.</p><p>“<i>He</i> is being unreasonable.”</p><p>“He’s your father. You have to speak to him. You live in the same bloody house.”</p><p>“Maybe I’m not going to live here anymore!” </p><p>With that, Marian spun on her heel and stomped toward the stairs. Ann looked to her wife in bewilderment, but Anne followed her sister. Left alone in the living room, Ann just shrugged at Argus. Being home certainly was something, wasn’t it?</p><p>“Don’t mind them,” Aunt Anne chirped cheerfully, puttering in from the kitchen, a mug of tea in her hand. “Jeremy and Marian have been going at it all evening.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>Ann took her aunt’s arm and then her tea as they reached the base of the stairs; Aunt Anne needed one hand to hold onto the bannister. Ann smiled proudly at this intimacy between them. It was like watching herself from the outside; she could hear what strangers probably said about her. How had that Ann Walker gotten used to living with the Listers? She certainly seemed cozy in such a strange family.</p><p>“Jeremy made some remark about young Thomas, and,” Aunt gestured vaguely, “they were off from there.”</p><p>“I thought he liked Thomas.”</p><p>“He does, but he never expected Marian to be so serious about him. He reacted a bit harshly to Marian talking about going to live with him.”</p><p>“With Thomas?” Ann breathed, following Aunt Anne into her room; it had never occurred to Ann that Marian would ever move out. Wouldn’t they all just pile up in Shibden together?</p><p>“Not that anything’s been set.” Aunt sat down heavily on the bed, propped her cane against the nightstand, then swung her legs in front of her to lean against the headboard; Ann passed her her tea. “You know how she gets with him. In a week, she’ll be back on that grinder, looking for someone new.”</p><p>“It’s Tinder, Aunt,” Ann said with a smile, climbing into bed next to her. “The app Marian uses is called Tinder.”</p><p>“Whatever. I’m not sure Marian is the type to ever settle down, but Jeremy doesn’t see that.”</p><p>“He wouldn’t want her to leave Shibden?”</p><p>“Yes and no,” Aunt Anne answered carefully. “They haven’t always lived here, so it’s not really about this old bucket. It’s more about - well, you know for many years it was just Jeremy and Marian, at Market Weighton, after Rebecca died. They’re very close, and I think he worries about her. About being apart from her and about her being lonely. It’s hard work, being a parent.” Ann nodded; Aunt chuckled. “Why I never did it.”</p><p>“Right,” Ann chuckled with her.</p><p>“Wrangling teenage Anne was plenty for me.” Aunt Anne patted her hand with a wink. “They’ll work it out. They always do. To be honest - and don’t tell our Anne this - I think they get a little jumpy when Anne is gone.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Oh, yes. Marian loves it, or says she does. She’s in charge and has all the control she so desperately wants, but it comes at a price. There’s a reason she hasn’t set up house somewhere on her own; she can’t handle it. She doesn’t like it. This little spat is the dying gasp of her reign.” Ann laughed, shaking her head at this ridiculous family she loved. “Boy, am I glad to see you, though. How are you? How do you feel? Did you have the best time?”</p><p>“Yes,” Ann gushed, and so lost herself in retelling their trip. At least, she told the parts that Aunt Anne could handle. No need to burden this sweet lady with the debauchery of her nieces. Ann was describing the exhaustion she felt in the car, as opposed to the surge of energy she felt upon reaching Shibden, when Anne burst into the room.  Ann grinned widely at her disheveled wife; she looked about as tired as Ann felt. “Hello, darling.”</p><p>Groaning, Anne stretched along the edge of the bed, her head near Ann’s feet. It was reminiscent of Ann’s first day at Shibden after their quarantine; they’d been in nearly these exact same positions. How many things had changed since then, Ann thought; it made her head swim.</p><p>“Why, Aunt? Why do we put up with them?” Anne whined to the ceiling, then turned over and reached out for Ann’s socked feet. “Let’s kick them out.”</p><p>“You don’t mean that,” Aunt Anne chided gently. “Is it solved?”</p><p>“Yes, finally. I have brokered a peace based on the fact that Marian will not be moving out anytime soon, but Mr. Beech will be spending the night tonight and more often in the future.”</p><p>“Oh, Anne,” Ann laughed. “We brought that on ourselves, didn’t we? Getting him to pick us up?”</p><p>“He’s my driver; I shouldn’t have to consider his sexual habits.”</p><p>“The Captain?” Aunt Anne asked. “Is he mollified?”</p><p>“Yes, yes.” Anne rolled her eyes as she rubbed her wife’s feet absentmindedly. “He’s come around. You know how it is. They can’t stand for me to be happy.”</p><p>“We just miss you, dear, that’s all.”</p><p>“Well, I shall admit to missing you, Aunt,” Anne said haughtily, “but not those two. Did Ann tell you about our trip?”</p><p>“Yes.” Aunt Anne patted Ann’s knee. “Will you be showing me this ring or do I have to imagine it in my mind?”</p><p>Shaking her head, Anne held up her left hand, fingers to the ceiling, palm facing toward herself. Ann couldn’t believe how hard her wife worked to avoid any sort of feminine affectation. Clicking her tongue, Aunt Anne patted the stretch of the bed between them, and Anne dutifully scrambled up between them. It was tight, but they fit. Cozy, too, Ann thought, leaning her head against Anne’s shoulder as Aunt Anne examined the ring. </p><p>“Excellent taste, Little Ann,” she said appreciatively. “A bit late, though,” she teased.</p><p>“I think it’s right on time, Aunt,” Anne said firmly, taking Ann’s hand in her right. “My two very favorite people. Shall we sleep just like this?” </p><p>Anne flopped her head to the side, pretending to snore. Aunt Anne laughed and nudged her; Ann did the same. </p><p>“Absolutely not.” Aunt Anne patted Anne’s thigh. “Go on, you two. Good night. Very, very happy to have you home.”</p><p>“Good night, Aunt,” they each said in turn, kissing Aunt Anne on the cheek and rolling out of bed. </p><p>Anne took her hand as they walked out their own bedroom. The final layer of stress rolled from Ann’s shoulders as they crossed the threshold. At home. At last. Anne fell back onto the sheets, pulling Ann on top of her. Giggling, Ann fit her knee between Anne’s legs, holding her face in her hands and kissing her soundly. </p><p>“We should shower,” she said into Anne’s neck; Anne hummed in approval as her hands roamed Ann’s back. “We should go to sleep.” </p><p>“We should do a lot of things,” Anne said softly. </p><p>That was the last thing she remembered. The next thing she knew, Anne’s strong arms were lifting her up, setting her down carefully on the bed. She opened her eyes slowly, just in time to see her wife’s lean form disappearing into the bathroom. Had they fallen asleep?That was sort of embarrassing, wasn’t it? She stared at the ceiling for a few moments, trying to decide if she wanted to wash the airplane off or just get into bed. She always felt a little dirty after traveling, but she didn’t feel like waiting for Anne to finish. Though, she supposed, she didn’t have to.</p><p>“Adney,” her wife gasped as she stepped into the shower. “Good Lord, I thought you were asleep.”</p><p>“I was.”</p><p>“We both were,” Anne chuckled, stepping out of the spray to give Ann space. “Long day.”</p><p>“Very long,” Ann agreed, closing her eyes under the warm water. </p><p>For a few minutes they showered in tandem, handing each other loofahs and shampoo and soap. It was strangely comfortable; the shower was a good size, and Ann never felt she was left shivering in the cold air for more than a moment. They had a good rhythm, didn’t they? Without having to speak, they could share space like this. It was sort of miraculous, wasn’t it? As she watched Anne tilt her head back to rinse the conditioner from her hair, Ann decided they’d waited long enough. Her wife’s neck was so long, her wet body so inviting. Ann pressed her lips to Anne’s clavicle, up her shoulder, along her neck to her jawline. One long arm wrapped around her waist, even as Anne’s other hand continued to thread through her own sudsy hair. </p><p>“Adney,” she warned. “Water’s going to run out.”</p><p>“Then let’s get out of here,” Ann murmured against her slick skin.</p><p>“We just got clean, and now you want to get dirty?”</p><p>Ann stretched up, planting her hands on narrow hips and hovering just over her wife’s lips</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>It didn’t take much convincing, did it? Anne caught her lips, reaching behind her to turn off the water. They broke apart just long enough to step onto the bath mat, drying their bodies hurriedly before crashing back together. Anne walked her backward, through the closet, alternating deep, slow kisses with quick, teasing ones. Her hands roamed Ann’s back, her hips, the nape of her neck. When Ann’s knees hit the bed, she sat down and pulled the hair tie from her wife’s wrist. With raised eyebrows, Ann tied her wet hair into a messy bun on the top of her head; not exactly great for her hair, but she had bigger concerns. Besides, it was a bit of a power move, as Anne’s dark locks hung, wet and limp, around her face.</p><p>And yet, Ann could never predict Anne Lister. As if reading her mind, Anne went about her own power move: tying her hair back with nothing at all. She raised one eyebrow rakishly, then twisted her hair into a small bun at the base of her skull; Ann couldn’t see how she kept it in place, but when her hands fell away, the hair didn’t move. Ann gaped at her.</p><p>“What?” Anne laughed, kneeling between Ann’s legs and running her hands along the tops of her thighs. </p><p>“How do you - how can you do that?”</p><p>“You see,” Anne leaned forward to kiss Ann’s sternum, “sometimes, in the past,” she ran her tongue along the side of one of her breasts, “I’ve been in situations,” again, “where I needed to hold my hair back,” she pressed her lips to the swell of one, “in a bit of a hurry,” then the other, “you know?”</p><p>“Pony, Good Lord,” Ann breathed, cupping the back of her wife’s neck as soft lips closed around her nipple. “Are you telling me that you learned how to tie your hair back - um, without a band, just - just so you could - unh, um, you could go down on women?”<br/>“Yes.”</p><p>Sighing in defeat, Ann fell back against the sheets. How could one person be so effortlessly sexy? Soft lips meandered their way across her chest, her ribs, her stomach. She jolted as Anne’s tongue dragged a wide path through her arousal; strong hands steadied her hips as Anne broke her apart, tender stroke by tender stroke. Closing her eyes, she palmed her own breasts and surrendered to the slow, gentle build of pleasure. </p><p>“Right there,” she whispered, swirling her hips into Anne’s face. “More, Pony, please.”</p><p>“Be still,” Anne growled, trailing one hand up to Ann’s breasts, the other sliding between her folds. “Can you do that, Miss Walker?”</p><p>“Yes, yes,” Ann panted urgently, covering Anne’s hand on her breast, angling her hips upward. “Pony, please.”</p><p>“It’s been less than twenty-four hours,” a single finger probed her entrance, “since I fucked you,” gentle teeth nipped at her thigh; a soft tongue soothed it over, “on the stairs,” a jolt of electricity shot up Ann’s spine as Anne found that exquisite spot inside her, “and on the counter.” </p><p>“I know, Pony.” Ann rolled her hips, matching Anne’s even thrusts. “I know, I know, but I - unh - I need you.”</p><p>“You do, you do?” </p><p>“Yes, Pony, fuck.”</p><p>“Dirty mouth.” Anne squeezed her breast, just a bit roughly; Ann bit her tongue to keep from crying out. “Perhaps I should punish you.”</p><p>“No, please, Pony, please.”</p><p>“Well,” Anne crawled up her body, “since you asked so nicely.”</p><p>Anne brought their lips together fiercely, and suddenly everything was happening in double time. She stretched Ann with two fingers, grinding against her clit with every stroke. Ann grappled at her back, along her shoulders, around her hips, anything to get her closer. When Anne started to roll her hips against Ann’s thigh, she traced a hand between them and found the hard bundle of her wife’s desire. At the first stroke, Anne broke the kiss, breathing heavily into Ann’s ear and rutting into her faster.</p><p>“Harder,” Ann managed, feeling the wave of her release building in her gut. </p><p>The filthy, hushed sounds of their bodies meeting filled the room: Anne’s low grunts, her own high, breathy gasps, the dirty squelches of lips and fingers and desire. For the past week, they’d been able to scream and yell and bang the headboard against the wall. Now, back at Shibden, they had to keep everything closely wrapped; it wasn’t much of a problem for Anne, but Ann had never been very good at staying quiet. Somehow, the combination of the moans scratching at her throat and the relief at being home created an impossibly strong wave of pleasure. </p><p>“I’m going to - Pony, I’m so close.”</p><p>Ann tried to focus on bringing Anne the relief she needed, but she could hardly stave off her own climax. Anne slowed her own hand, grinding her hips insistently against Ann’s leg. </p><p>“Wait for me,” she panted. “Flatten - unh - do your hand - yes, just like that.”</p><p>Ann shifted her hand to cup her wife’s core, and Anne pressed her hips downward urgently to grind against the heel of Ann’s hand. It was impossibly hot; Ann’s skin burned with the heat building between her legs, the feeling of her wife’s arousal on her hand, the relief of being home. </p><p>“Pony, please, I -”</p><p>With just a few more strokes, Anne sent her into oblivion, following closely behind with a choked moan. Ann’s teeth dug into her bottom lip as she shuddered through her release. It felt better, somehow, to be arching her back against their own bed, to gasp the rich Shibden air into her lungs, to make love to her wife on the estate where they would build their lives. Anne fell next to her with a satisfied sigh. </p><p>“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Anne said, rolling on her side and laying a palm on Ann’s belly. </p><p>“I should hope so,” Ann chuckled, turning to face her. </p><p>“No, I -” Anne clicked her tongue, squeezing Ann’s hip playfully. “I mean to be home. To be together and to be home.”</p><p>“I was <i>just</i> thinking that!”</p><p>“Were you?” Anne’s eyes were wide, an expression of excitement coloring her handsome face; Ann nodded with a shrug. “Ann! Ann Walker.” Grinning, Anne hopped to her feet, plucking her book and readers from their bag. “I can’t believe how much I love you.”</p><p>“What?” Ann giggled, sliding under the covers. </p><p>“You - you just get it.” Anne’s warm body pressed against hers; Ann curled into her side. “I don’t think anybody - really, anybody I’ve ever met - has actually understood how I feel about Shibden. I know you can’t - uh, you can’t feel the same way I feel about it, not so soon, but, uh, the fact that you - uh - it just means a lot to me, Adney.”</p><p>Ann knew she’d never know exactly what Shibden meant to the complicated woman in her arms, but she also knew that she was starting to feel a certain affinity for the land and the house. She loved it in a different way than Anne did, she suspected; she loved it because Anne loved it. </p><p>“It’s a part of you, Pony. Shibden and the estate. I love you and I love Shibden, because you’re kind of the same thing. This place is so much a part of you that I - does that make sense? Is that dumb?”</p><p>“No,” Anne said softly, her voice cracking over the single syllable. “It’s not dumb at all.”</p><p>Ann decided not to push it, to allow her headstrong wife to shed her tears without interrogation. She snuggled into Anne’s chest, closing her eyes and running her hand along Anne’s side. It did feel good. She felt safer. More protected, perhaps. Surrounded in her wife’s strong arms, the two of them ensconced in the warm embrace of Shibden Hall.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>Not a lot to say today, just a lil homecoming. Hope you enjoyed it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Charming Old Ladies and Slaying Dragons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They’d come back from Paris on Sunday, and Anne had hopped up Monday morning to check on the estate. Ann slept late and wasn’t bothered; she knew how Anne got, so she didn’t feel any type of way about it, beside a cursory appreciation for her wife’s sweaty form bustling in around noon.</p><p>“No time,” she’d declared, kissing Ann swiftly on the top of the head before sweeping out of the dining room just as quickly as she’d swept in. “Going to the office.”</p><p>Ann didn’t mind. She had a week before school started up, and while Anne spent that time preparing for the new term, Ann relaxed, painted, caught up with Marian. She was working on transposing a photo she’d taken in Paris on Friday afternoon when Anne texted her that she was on the way home. She washed her hands and checked her hair in the chaumière’s small bathroom; Anne’s uni sweatshirt had become her painting smock, and her thick wool socks poked out from under her faded jeans. The hut was surprisingly warm in the winter, especially with the fire burning. It was all Ann could do to keep it going after Anne had lit it for her this morning.</p><p>Her wife swept into the room like a hurricane and a blizzard and a blast of sunshine all in one. Her greatcoat swirled around her as she pulled her beanie from her head and tossed it on the table next to the door. For half a moment, Ann took in her thick, white sweater, her tight blue jeans capped by black boots; she wore leather gloves and slipped one off before Ann crashed into her. </p><p>Ann wrapped one arm around her narrow waist under her coat, the other sliding up her chest, over her shoulder, along her strong arm. Anne kissed her soundly, both hands on Ann’s lower back; her lips were cold from being outside, but they were soft and firm in that intoxicating way that Anne always kissed her. Ann pulled back a hair, but Anne’s broad hand kept her close as their lips met again. She heard Anne’s gloves drop onto her hat, and she pulled away with a giggle. Her wife was grinning broadly, eyes dancing with excitement - was all that just for her? Anne took her hands, pulling them to her own waist, pressing their hips flush as she kissed Ann again. </p><p>“Hi, Pony.”</p><p>“You look delicious.” Anne led them to the small loveseat. “How has your day been?”</p><p>“Oh, good, you know,” Ann shrugged as she sat down. “ Boring without you.”</p><p>“I felt the same way.” Anne stretched an arm along the back of the sofa, her long fingers tracing along Ann’s shoulder. “You’ve been painting?”</p><p>“Yes,” she said shyly, “though I’m not sure if it’s any good.”</p><p>“I bet it’s beautiful,” Anne husked, leaning forward to catch Ann’s lips, but Ann pulled back at the last moment. “What is it?”</p><p>“Can we go out for dinner tonight?”</p><p>“Oh, well,” Anne trailed off, leaning in to kiss her again, but Ann put a gentle hand on her chest; she could tell her wife wasn’t telling her the whole truth. “I may have, uh, made plans.”</p><p>“Uh-huh,” she nodded, picking a speck of lint from Anne’s jumper. “When were you going to tell me?”</p><p>“Right after I kiss you,” Anne leaned in again, but Ann’s hand remained firm on her shoulder; her wife let out a sound between a groan and a laugh. “Well, you see, Mrs. Rawson came to the office today.”</p><p>Mrs. Rawson, or Mother Rawson as the tribe called her, was the matriarch of the whole protracted family. Aunt Ann sometimes jockeyed for power, but, without children or a husband, she didn’t have the resources necessary for a coup d’etat. No, in truth, it was always Mother Rawson, with her mess of black hair streak with grey, her rotund form waddling toward Ann to question why she wasn’t married, who she’d been hanging around with, how in the world she stayed so slim. Mother Rawson scared the shit out of her. </p><p>“And?” Ann asked.</p><p>“And she wants to - you know, to have us over. For dinner. Tonight.”</p><p>“Ann!” She groaned, leaning back against the couch. “I hate her.”</p><p>“No, you don’t,” Anne chuckled, rubbing her hand. “It’ll be nice.”</p><p>“Why would it be nice? All she’s ever done is - is - is berate me! Question after question for my entire life. I never do anything right for her.”</p><p>“She actually seems quite fond of you, darling. I’ve only ever heard good things about you from her.”</p><p>“Of course,” Ann snapped. “Of course you’re bloody friends with her too! It’s always easy for you, isn’t it? Charming old ladies and slaying dragons?” She turned to her wife, who looked a bit sheepish as she ran her thumb across the back of Ann’s hand. “She terrifies me, Anne. I won’t be able to eat at all.”</p><p>“We can cancel. Let’s just not go. We’ll say you’re under the weather.”</p><p>“No, no no,” Ann said bitterly, pulling her hand away. “Me being sick? No fucking way. Eliza Priestley would be over here in a minute to sniff out what was wrong. Another example of my being an invalid.”</p><p>“You know you’re not an invalid. You know that, and I know that. Does it matter what they think?”</p><p>“Yes! We have to go. We’ll only be - be delaying the inevitable if we go. I’ll spend a week in a stew about it if we postpone. No, we have to go.”</p><p>“I didn’t - it didn’t occur to me that you wouldn’t want to go.”</p><p>“Why wouldn’t that occur to you, Anne? You know how much trouble I have with the tribe.”</p><p>Anne opened her mouth, then shook her head and sighed. She took Ann’s hand in both of hers, </p><p>“Families always appear differently on the outside, don’t they? To be honest, Adney, I thought you and Mrs. Rawson got along. I’ve known her a long time, and she always said such lovely things about you. How beautiful you are and what an excellent painter and how kind and generous. She’s always stuck up for you, at least in my presence.”</p><p>“That’s not possible. She must mean my Aunt Ann Walker.”</p><p>“No, darling,” Anne said slowly, “she meant you. Gorgeous blonde hair and a terrific figure - does that sound like your Aunt Ann?”</p><p>Ann bit her lip, trying to process this new information. It had never occurred to her that Mother Rawson’s questions were genuine; she always assumed that they were, like everything else the tribe did, meant to embarrass her, to prove that she was unwell and unfit. Could it be true? </p><p>“I’m sorry, Ann. I should’ve asked you before I agreed.”</p><p>Ann inhaled deeply, raising her eyes to meet Anne’s. </p><p>“When were you going to tell me?”</p><p>“Well, uh, I -”</p><p>“Coming in here, snogging me at the door, sitting me down over here. I wonder, Pony,” Ann reached out to fiddle with her jumper again, “if you were going to seduce me first.”</p><p>“Well,” Anne obfuscated, “I don’t know about <i>‘seduce’</i>, but -”</p><p>“You’re impossible,” Ann smiled.</p><p>“I know,” Anne whispered, leaning forward again. Again, Ann kept her back. “Ann,” she whined, “let me kiss you.”</p><p>“I don’t think so, Dr. Lister.” Ann stood. “I’ve got to go shower and get ready for this dinner. We’ll see how it goes. If you’ll get to kiss me again.”</p><p>“Ann!” Her wife groaned as Ann pulled on her shoes and jacket. “Come on, baby.”</p><p>“You better hope Mother Rawson doesn’t push me too far tonight, or you might be sleeping out here.”</p><p>Was it unfair to withhold sex as a punishment? Perhaps. But if it worked for Lysistrata, surely it would work for Ann Walker. She couldn’t help smiling as her wife trotted behind her, cajoling and begging and flattering. Anne couldn’t even stand to wait for her to shower, couldn’t bear to see Ann’s naked form without the possibility of touching her, so she changed hurriedly and disappeared downstairs.</p><p>As Ann dried her hair, she psyched herself up for the meal. Dinner at the Rawson home depended entirely on who was there; Jeremiah and his wife were always a salve; Stansfield was okay, a bit of a bore but if he was there, Catherine and Delia usually were too. Christopher usually signaled unmitigated disaster. Mother Rawson seemed to love needling him, often to the point he would explode out of the room, cursing and ranting, while she laughed jovially from her too-small chair. Any of the extended tribe usually had less effect, though there were always surprises. Aunt Ann had once brought the meal to a halt when she proclaimed, unprompted: “they say chlamydia is ravaging the care homes.” It was always something like that with her - terrible and inappropriate and unsettling. Ann wasn’t sure how her wife would add into the mix. </p><p>It had been years since Ann had been in the Rawsons’ house. By the time they pulled up to the ostentatious stone mansion, she was a bundle of nerves again. Anne had held her hand for the entire drive, chatting innocuously about this and that; she seemed to sense Ann’s anxiety, but she didn’t acknowledge it. Ann wasn’t sure if she preferred it this way or not. Anne put the Range Rover in park and turned to her. </p><p>“We can leave, Adney.”</p><p>“No,” Ann sighed, “we really can’t.”</p><p>“I can tell them I’m sick, or we got a flat tire, or something with my aunt or father or -”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Ann interrupted gently. “We have to face the music sometime, and it might as well be now. We’re lucky we avoided her for so long.”</p><p>Anne leaned forward, but Ann offered only her cheek. She wasn’t mad at Anne, per se, but she was committed to watching her squirm. Perhaps Anne would learn from this that she should consult her wife on dinner engagements and social obligations, especially as they concerned the tribe. It wasn’t that Ann wanted to keep her under lock and key, but she wanted to make a point. Not everything could be solved with Anne’s seemingly magical touch. Many things, sure, but not everything. </p><p>“Alright, Adney,” Anne chuckled, “I get it. Are you still cross with me?”</p><p>“Not especially.”</p><p>“Just wanting me to suffer?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ann shrugged with a smile. </p><p>They made their way up the few steps to the massive front door and rang the bell; they were never the type of family to accept informal, backdoor entrances. The Rawson homestead was immense. Old and stone on the outside, constantly renovated on the inside. Mother Rawson was obsessed with staying current, and the furniture was all sleek and modern and terribly uncomfortable. There were perhaps a dozen bedrooms; enough, the matriarch insisted, for her children and grandchildren to stay. Whenever needed. A sour-faced butler ushered them inside, and Mother Rawson appeared just as they’d handed off their coats. Shoes were worn in this house for formality’s sake; the floors were scrubbed daily anyway, and who wanted to see Mother Rawson’s bunion-encrusted feet or Jeremiah’s holey socks anyway?</p><p>Talking to Mother Rawson always felt like being late to a conversation already in progress. She wore a classic red dress with a scoop neck and long sleeves and an A-line skirt; the kind of thing that was probably very fashionable in the 1960s. Her bloated feet were stuffed into matching pumps, and her gnarled hand held a half-drunk martini. She always smelled of baby powder and some vintage perfume Ann could never place. </p><p>“And you two, why has it taken you so long to come see me?”</p><p>“The new term, you know,” Anne said easily, shaking her hand; the back of Mother Rawson’s hand was turned toward the sky, making Ann wonder if her wife would kiss it, “wedding planning.”</p><p>“I demand every detail,” she pronounced. “I haven’t even seen this ring. Ann, where are you?”</p><p>Ann scrambled forward to present her hand, which Mother Rawson took hold of like a bird of prey. The older woman turned her hand over appraisingly as they walked toward the dining room at the back of the house. </p><p>“Quite nice, Dr. Lister,” she called over her shoulder; Anne jogged up behind them. “Untraditional though.”</p><p>“Well, I wanted something unique,” Anne offered. “Anyone can get a diamond, but Ann Walker isn’t just anyone. They’re not even precious stones; they’re just traditional.”</p><p>For a moment, as they stepped into the cavernous dining room, no one spoke. Ann worried her intelligent and charming wife had missed the mark this time. Anne looked at her over the matriarch’s head and raised her eyebrows in question. Not exactly reassuring. Then the old woman laughed.</p><p>“You are something else, Lister. Come in, come in, sit down, sit down.”</p><p>Ann knew Mother Rawson liked to have large dinner parties, so she was surprised to find only Christopher and Catherine at the table. </p><p>“Annie!” Catherine hopped up to hug her tightly. “Granny said you’d be here, and I could not resist seeing you.”</p><p>“Hi, Cat,” she smiled, returning the hug then stepping aside for Anne to take her cousin’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”</p><p>That was the truth, because Christopher was already looking daggers across the table at them. He nodded curtly to each of them, his expression sour and ruddy; Ann guessed he was probably halfway through a bottle of wine, angling to switch to scotch in the near future. </p><p>Mother Rawson sat at the head of the long table, Anne on her right and Christopher on her left; Catherine and Ann sat across from each other. Ann was grateful for the buffer of her wife between herself and the red dragon. She barely registered the food as the night progressed, keeping her head down as jabs flew across the table. </p><p>Such as:</p><p>“Perhaps, Christopher,” Mother Rawson sneered, “your brothers couldn’t make it because they’re busy with their wives and children. They don’t need to hang around, sniffing about for a free meal.”</p><p>Or:</p><p>“There’s really nothing to making a pudding, Catherine,” the matriarch said sagely; “thoug I’ve never had to learn, because I married money. A beautiful young woman has a lot of capital to bargain with. Now you - you may have to learn. I’m sure there are some very nice boys out there who don’t mind a homely girl.”</p><p>Worst of all:</p><p>“Tell me, Ann, all about your trip to Paris.”</p><p>Ann knew the question was meant for her. Mother Rawson had only addressed Anne by her surname for the entire evening. She opened her mouth to speak, but Anne cut in.</p><p>“Well, we stayed in this lovely little place in La Marais…”</p><p>As she rattled on, Ann breathed a sigh of relief. Catherine kicked her under the table and grinned encouragingly. Anne was saving her, wasn’t she? Protecting her as she always did. As she spoke, Ann turned to study her profile a bit more closely. She was just lovely, wasn’t she? Handsome and strong and thoughtful. She looked out for Ann, all the time. Ann felt a wave of gratitude for her Pony, with only an inkling of remorse for denying her kisses and wandering hands. Anne didn’t think twice about accepting this invitation not because she wasn’t aware of Ann’s anxiety, but because she knew Ann could handle it. She knew that Ann would be safe by her side. Having dinner with the tribe wasn’t like the crowd on New Year’s Eve; this was something that Ann had managed on her own in the past, surely she could again. Had Anne thought about it like this?  Perhaps not. </p><p>“Sounds lovely, Dr. Lister,” Mother Rawson said, and for the first time, Ann could see that she was pleased. “Did you have a nice time, Annie?”</p><p>“We did,” Ann nodded. “I did. It was lovely.”</p><p>“I’m sure it was very good for your painting.” </p><p>The tone that Ann usually interpreted as menacing and evaluative seemed genuinely curious. Even Mother Rawson could be charmed by Anne Lister. </p><p>“It was,” Ann smiled. “I was actually just working on a piece today based on a photo I took over the Seine.”</p><p>“Well, I demand to see it.”</p><p>“It’s, uh, it’s not finished yet.”</p><p>“Perfection takes time,” Mother Rawson said with a sly wink. “Now, Catherine, what the hell is going on with you? Where’s that boyfriend of yours I hate?”</p><p>Ann sagged in relief as the attention turned to her friend. Catherine could pretty well hold her own at these dinners; she got along with Mother Rawson, and she was a sucker for the creations of her chef. Ann placed a hand on her wife’s knee, a silent truce. Not quite an apology, but an acknowledgement that the touching ban had been lifted. Anne patted her hand under the table. </p><p>Perhaps Anne hadn’t known that Ann could handle this. Perhaps she’d just acted without thinking. That was okay too, because Ann truly could handle it. She could handle it on her own, and had for years, but she could feel especially comfortable with her wife beside her. Maybe Anne didn’t think about it consciously. Maybe she knew it intrinsically. How romantic. How dashing and thoughtless and wonderful. Ann was going to screw her brains out tonight. </p><p>That pleasant thought led to a string of even more pleasant thoughts as her hand drifted slowly up Anne’s strong thigh. That must’ve been how she missed Mother Rawson turning her attention to Christopher. </p><p>“You always said there wasn’t time, not with your work schedule and community outreach. Lister has the exact same schedule, and she’s getting married. What’s the excuse now?”</p><p>“I’m sure I don’t know,” Christopher answered tersely. </p><p>“Maybe that’s why the dean wants her to stay on as department head rather than you.”</p><p>Did he? Had that been decided? Ann didn’t know anything about this. From the look on her face, neither did Anne. </p><p>“Mother,” Christopher said through clenched teeth, “nothing has been decided about that.”</p><p>“But he hinted at it, didn’t he?” Mother Rawson leaned forward, an expression of barely contained pleasure spreading across her face. “Wouldn’t tell you for sure?”</p><p>Christopher said nothing. Anne took a sip of her wine, but Ann could see her smirk behind the rim. It was almost painful to watch a grown man crumble like this. If Christopher wasn’t such a righteous prick, Ann would’ve felt sorry for him.</p><p>“Those deans are so fickle,” Anne offered graciously. “You never can tell why they’ll make a decision like that. Could be something to do with the students or the board or even backdoor bargains, you know. Something not entirely appropriate.”</p><p>“But, Christopher,” Mother Rawson chided, “I thought that’s why you were letting him in your backdoor.” Every face in the room fell, but hers; Mother Rawson started laughing. “Sorry, ladies.”</p><p>Christopher’s face was beet red as he shoved his chair back and stormed out of the room.</p><p>“Might have been private, Granny,” Catherine said quietly. </p><p>“Did you all not know?” Mother Rawson drained her martini glass, the fourth Ann had counted. “Damn. I thought he’d told you.”</p><p>All three women shook their heads.</p><p>“I thought for certain he’d tell <i>you</i>,” she said to Anne. “Don’t you all have a club or something?”</p><p>“Not exactly,” Anne answered with the practiced ease of someone who’d been dodging microaggressions for decades. “Let him know, if you think of it, that his secret’s safe with me.”</p><p>“You can’t be doing that, Granny.” Catherine moved into Christopher’s vacant chair; she’d always had a soft spot for the old bird, hadn’t she? “Massively inappropriate.”</p><p>“Oh. Well, I-” Mother Rawson gave a dismissive wave of her hand.</p><p>“It’s been lovely,” Anne said, pushing her chair back. “We cannot thank you enough, but I can tell my bride is getting a bit tired, aren’t you darling?”</p><p>Ann actually was stifling a yawn. Mother Rawson chuckled and nodded. </p><p>“Lovely to see you two. Don’t make me wait another year to see you, do you hear me? Both of you.”</p><p>With promised future visits and polite goodbyes, the couple made their exit, leaving Catherine to educate her grandmother on the exact ways in which she had overstepped this evening. Once they were safely in the car, Ann leaned over the console, took her wife’s face in her hands, and kissed her. Hard. Anne made a small sound of surprise, then cupped the back of Ann’s neck and tilted her head to deepen the kiss. After a few moments, she pulled away with a smile.</p><p>“God, I’ve missed you.”</p><p>“Thank you, Pony,” Ann said as her wife put the car in reverse, “for protecting me tonight. It wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected.”</p><p>“I told you. She adores you.”</p><p>“I don’t know about ‘adore,’ but she was certainly more gentle with me than she was with Catherine or Christopher.”</p><p>“Oh God,” Anne laughed, “Christopher! Shagging the dean? That dean’s married, too. To a woman.” Ann balked. “Yeah, they have two or three kids. My goodness.”</p><p>“Poor him,” Ann giggled. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to come out that way.”</p><p>“You know, I’d always suspected.”</p><p>“Had you? I always thought he was asexual. Maybe he was attracted to power and good scotch, but that was about it.”</p><p>“He asked me to marry him once,” Anne said coyly.</p><p>“He did not!” </p><p>“Yes, ma’am.” Anne smirked, clearly pleased with this revelation. “Long, long time ago. He said we ‘could come to an understanding.’ Couldn’t have been more clear, in my opinion.”</p><p>“Good heavens,” Ann laughed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p>“I’d honestly forgotten! I think of him as the prick at work, not as,” she paused dramatically, “the one that got away.”</p><p>Giggling, Ann nudged her shoulder. Would Anne Lister ever stop surprising her? </p><p>“Great, now I have to add him to your mile-long list of exes,” Ann teased.</p><p>“No, you don’t.” Anne pulled into the garage, parked, and turned to face her. “You don’t have to worry about any of them. It’s only you.”</p><p>Ann leaned forward to catch her lips, scrambling into Anne’s lap as the flame sparked between them. The steering wheel dug into her back, and she could hear Anne fumbling around for the seat control on the side. Finally, she heard a click and then the soft buzz of the motorized seat as they slowly slid backward. They both dissolved into laughter, holding each other and shaking their heads. This piece of it still surprised her - having sex with Anne was hot and exciting, but it was also funny and silly. </p><p>When the seat reached the end of its track, Anne looked up rakishly. She curled her hands around Ann’s hips; Ann fiddled with the front of her jumper.</p><p>“Am I forgiven, Adney?”</p><p>“Yes,” Ann said shyly, focusing on the hollow of her throat. </p><p>“I should’ve asked you.”</p><p>“It’s okay. I’m glad we went.”</p><p>“Me too.” Anne slipped her hands under Ann’s dress, cupping her behind over her stockings. “She’s a lot of fun.”</p><p>“She is.” Ann slipped a hand under her wife’s jumper, the other tangling in the hair at the back of her neck. “You know what I was thinking about? During dinner?”</p><p>“What?” Anne nosed her way along Ann’s jaw and into her hair. </p><p>“I was thinking that tonight,” she ran her fingers along Anne’s stomach, “I was going to screw your brains out.”</p><p>Anne inhaled sharply, pulling back to meet Ann’s gaze for a moment before crashing their lips together. Her hands slipped deftly under Ann’s stockings, kneading her ass for a few beats before tugging the tight elastic down around the middle of Ann’s thighs. With Ann’s knee between her legs, it was as far as they could go. </p><p>“I have been so hot for you,” Anne breathed against her neck, slipping a hand in her panties, “all fucking day. It’s like I’m,” she traced through Ann’s folds; they both moaned, “addicted to you.”</p><p>“I know. I - it’s like - I can’t - fuck, Pony.”</p><p>Ann rolled her hips against Anne’s hand, grinding against her and aching to feel her inside. Even going all day without Anne’s touch was difficult; it would get better when the term started, wouldn’t it? Maybe it would peter off with time? Ann couldn’t imagine this need slaking off anytime soon.</p><p>“Seriously, Ann.” A strong hand wrapped around her hip, guiding her down on long fingers; they both hissed as Anne slid inside. “You’re - it’s incredible.” She dragged her tongue along the column of Ann’s neck. “I was in a meeting today,” she sucked gently at her pulse point; Ann tipped her head back, “and all I could think about was,” her thumb slipped over Ann’s clit, “being inside you.”</p><p>“Pony.”</p><p>“At dinner,” Anne worked in a steady rhythm, interspersing her words with gentle kisses to Ann’s neck and jaw, “I couldn’t - God, Adney, I almost pulled you into the toilet.”</p><p>Ann laughed breathlessly, trying to focus on the pleasure coiling in her gut rather than Mother Rawson’s face. Anne wrapped a hand around her neck and brought their lips together in a sloppy, wet kiss. It was cool in the garage with the car off and the door open, the warmth from their bodies making Ann feel like it was July rather than January. </p><p>“Pony,” she moaned, gripping Anne’s shoulders and bucking her hips. “I’m so close.”</p><p>“It’s incredible,” Anne husked, her hand reaching deeper, grinding harder, “how proud I was to be with you tonight. How proud I always am. How - fuck, Ann - how much I love you.”</p><p>As usual, it was this statement, this declaration that sent Ann over the edge. The shudders started in her hips, racing up her spine and down her legs. Anne kissed her neck, her jaw, her parted lips. </p><p>“I love you, Ann Walker. I’m proud of you. I love you.”</p><p>Ann drifted back to her body, sighing in relief as the trembles passed through her. She leaned forward, kissing Anne slowly and deeply as her heart rate slowed. Her wife smirked as she pulled away, settling her hands on Ann’s waist. </p><p>“You talk a big game, Miss Walker, about screwing my brains out, but,” she teased, “I’m the one doing all the work.”</p><p>“Well,” Ann protested, tucking a hair behind Anne’s ear, “it’s hard in the car.”</p><p>“I have to wait until we get inside?”</p><p>Narrowing her eyes, Ann reached to the side for the door handle. It swung open, and she tumbled to her feet. Laughing, Anne turned to face her, her long legs swinging over the edge. Ann leaned forward, caught her lips, flicked open the button to her trousers. Anne scooted forward, cupping Ann’s face, her neck, trailing down to her breasts.</p><p>“Adney,” she moaned as Ann covered her hands and pulled her to her feet. “I have been on fire since this afternoon.”</p><p>“Come here,” Ann giggled, pushing her trousers down. “Come here.”</p><p>“I’m here,” Anne tangled her fingers in Ann’s hair as she slipped her hand into her boxer-briefs. “I’m here.”</p><p>“You’re so good to me, Pony,” she breathed into Anne’s neck. “You’re protective,” she stroked Anne’s clit, “and strong,” again, “and sexy,” again, a little harder. “You’re every single thing.”</p><p>“Ann.”</p><p>A strong arm wrapped around her back, and Ann grinned into her wife’s neck. God, it felt good. To wield this kind of power. To deliver this kind of pleasure. To share this kind of moment. With Anne Lister of all people. It never failed to stun her.</p><p>“Oh, Pony,” she nibbled on Anne’s earlobe as she strummed her clit, “I can’t believe it sometimes.” She sucked at Anne’s neck. “That you’re mine.”</p><p>“I am,” Anne panted, her eyes closed; one hand pressed against the small of Ann’s back, the other roamed Ann’s face, her clavicle, her breast. “I am. I am.”</p><p>“Yes, you are, darling Pony. Now, come on.” She moved her hand faster. “Come for me, so we can go inside.” Anne gasped, her hips juddering. “And I can fuck you.” She lulled Ann close, cupping the back of her head; Ann whispered in her ear, “In our bed.”</p><p>Anne buried her face in Ann’s neck. It was always little things like that, little reminders of their commitment, that sent Anne over the edge. For all her swaggering and neckties and arrogant smirks, Anne Lister was consistently unraveled by gentle words and strong commitment. </p><p>Anne was still panting when a faint male voice reached Ann’s ears. She tugged up her wife’s shorts and trousers, giggling as they fumbled over her button and Ann’s stockings. Two dark shapes staggered toward the open garage door. They’d just replaced all their clothes when Marian’s bright laughter filled the space. Anne’s jaw dropped.</p><p>“Marian!” She bellowed. </p><p>The dark shapes shot apart, and Ann could finally make them out: Thomas and Marian. She bit her lip to keep from laughing.</p><p>“Anne, oh fuck,” Marian groaned. “What the hell?”</p><p>“What the hell?” Anne scoffed. “What are you doing outside after dark in January?”</p><p>“There’s the apartment -” Thomas started, gesturing to the little room above their heads, but Marian elbowed him in the ribs. </p><p>“What are you two doing?” Marian asked.</p><p>“Coming back from the Rawsons’,” Anne answered easily.</p><p>“You’ve got Ann’s lipstick on your cheek. And your neck. And your jumper.”</p><p>“Alright, alright,” Ann chuckled, pulling her wife back by the belt loop. “We’re going inside. Good night, Marian. Good night, Thomas.”<br/>
Ann pulled her still-sputtering wife toward the house. </p><p>“Ann!” She hissed. “That was - they can’t - I mean.”</p><p>“They are doing exactly what we were doing,” Ann laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Don’t be hypocritical.”</p><p>“We left our coats,” Anne whined. “Because my <i>sister</i> - is going to - with my <i>driver</i> - in the - the - the apartment above the -”</p><p>“Hush, Pony,” Ann soothed. “It’s okay.”</p><p>“I do <i>not</i> like it.”</p><p>“You’re funny.” Ann leaned into her wife’s warm body as they approached the house. “You act like you and Marian are so different, but, really, Pony, you’re exactly alike.”</p><p>Anne’s low voice protesting and Ann’s tinkling laughter echoed in the quiet house as they raced up the stairs. In her bed, Aunt Ann turned over, searching for sleep, having just traded one niece’s noise for another.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>Old Lady Rawson was a bit difficult for me to capture. I’m basing her on the show and my own grandmother - I think she’s totally outrageous, demanding and opinionated, and most people think she’s awful. A select few can see through to the goodness underneath. </p><p>The Christopher stuff? That’s just insane. I don’t know. Here we are. His proposing to Anne did happen, I think; it definitely happened in <i>The Secret Diaries of Miss Anne Lister</i> movie, soooooo, yes? </p><p>What did you think? It’s hard for me to tell. Maybe it’s shite. Oh wellllllll.....I had fun with it. Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. A Lifelong Commitment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>please remember the ‘no angst’ caveat</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We should get a puppy,” Ann said as they got dressed that Saturday morning. “Argus could have a friend.”</p><p>“No,” her wife answered curtly as she buttoned up her jeans. </p><p>“Why not?” Ann prickled, anxiety curling in her gut at being cast aside like this. </p><p>“I don’t want one,” Anne shrugged.</p><p>“But I do, Pony.” Ann wrapped her arms around her wife’s slim waist; perhaps a bit of convincing was in order. Anne rubbed her back for a moment, then pulled away.</p><p>“We’re not getting a puppy.”</p><p>With that, she was gone.</p><p>Ann tried not to stew during breakfast. Anne had her reasons, didn’t she? She must. She wouldn’t dismiss Ann out of hand like that for no reason at all. Definitely not. </p><p>And yet.</p><p>It was difficult not to get upset. Ann wanted a puppy. That wasn’t too much to ask. She could train it - well, she could pay to have it trained. She would take care of it, and Argus would have someone to occupy his time. It was supposed to be good for puppies to grow up with an older dog, wasn’t it? Ann could swear she’d read that somewhere. With the bleak cold outside and the long three months of work and grey skies between Ann and the wedding, she felt certain she’d need something to occupy her time. January and February were always difficult for her; nothing much to look forward to, no good holidays, nothing but bitter cold and grey snow and her own sad memories. A puppy would be the perfect antidote.</p><p>But Anne seemed to have forgotten the idea entirely as they sat at the breakfast table. She chatted amicably with the family, complimented the food, even ran her hand up Ann’s knee until Ann shifted her leg away. Anne didn’t even care. She didn’t even think twice about denying her wife something so simple. By the time the meal ended, Ann was in a full stew. </p><p>She lounged on the couch, trying to convey her annoyance in the fold of her arms and the downturn of her lips, but Anne just kissed the top of her head and strode out onto the grounds. Easy enough for her, Ann thought, to go off and find a purpose. While Ann was stuck inside watching television with Marian.</p><p>“You seem upset,” Marian said after a few hours.</p><p>“I’m not.”</p><p>“You are.” Marian turned off the television and turned to her. “What’s going on?”</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“Ann.”</p><p>“I just -” Ann saw an opportunity. She turned to face Marian excitedly. “What would you say if we got a puppy? I’d take care of everything.”</p><p>“Oh, well - actually, I think that’d be lovely.”</p><p>“Do you?”</p><p>“Sure,” Marian smiled, “Argus could use a pal. Somebody to get him up off the carpet.” She nudged the old dog with her toe. “Be nice to have something to brighten up these winter days.”</p><p>“I think so too! Anne doesn’t want to do it.”</p><p>“Screw her,” Marian said in solidarity. “Anybody who doesn’t want a puppy is a menace.”</p><p>That’s right, Ann thought as they went back to watching television; anybody in their right mind would be excited to get a puppy. She started rehearsing her pitch as the morning ticked by. </p><p>“So,” she said seriously once they sat down to lunch; Anne was still off doing something on the estate, “I was wondering, um, what you would think, uh, about - about getting a puppy.”</p><p>Aunt Anne and Captain Lister paused for a moment, looked at each other, then shrugged. </p><p>“I think it’d be nice,” Aunt Anne said.</p><p>“Don’t get a yappy one,” Captain Lister chuckled, “but I think that’d be fun. You’d have to get him trained.”</p><p>“Oh yes,” Ann rushed, “absolutely, I would take care of all of that.”</p><p>“What does Herself say?” Captain Lister asked. </p><p>“She said ‘no,’” Ann grumbled, her stomach twisting again at the remembrance of the slight. </p><p>“Try her again,” Aunt Anne encouraged. “I bet she’ll come around.”</p><p>“If anyone can do it,” Marian teased, “it’s you, Little Ann.”</p><p>When Anne swept inside in the early afternoon, Ann followed her to her office. Anne looked up as she sat down at her desk, surprise coloring her smiling face. Ann closed the door, her heart racing. </p><p>“Hello, darling.” Anne already had papers in her hands; she was only going to give Ann a crumb of her attention wasn’t she? Ann’s stomach was a proper knot now. </p><p>“Hi, Pony, could I - do you have a second?”</p><p>“Sure,” Anne nodded, but she still held the papers.</p><p>“The - the thing with the dog. The puppy. Could we talk about it again?”</p><p>“I don’t want a puppy, Adney.” Anne reached for her glasses. </p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“Just don’t.”</p><p>“Anne,” she whined, “come on. Have a real conversation with me about this. Everyone else thinks it’s a good idea.”</p><p>“Every-” Anne shook her head “what are you talking about?”</p><p>“The rest of the family thinks we should get a puppy,” Ann said bravely.</p><p>“They may do, but it’s my house and I won’t have a puppy in it.”</p><p>“I thought it was our house,” Ann said quietly.</p><p>“Yes, Ann, it -” Anne sighed, setting the papers down on her desk; her glasses were low on her nose, but Ann couldn’t even acknowledge how sexy she looked. She was too angry. “It’s our house, but I’m the head of this household. I get to decide, and I’m deciding against it.”</p><p>“Who said you’re the head of the household?”</p><p>“The deeds to Shibden,” Anne’s voice was flat, dry; Ann wasn’t sure she’d ever spoken to her like this. “The work I do on the estate. The bills I pay and the men I manage.”</p><p>“What does that make me? Your little wife?”</p><p>Anne paused, her eyes flicking about the room as if she were working out a trick question.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>Ann opened her mouth, but she couldn’t speak. All that about partnership and sharing and Shibden being their home - had it been a lie? Anne hadn’t even meant it? She flew down the hallway, into their bedroom, locking the door behind her and vaulting on the bed. She buried her face in the pillow, tears already streaming down her face. The doorknob rattled, then there were sharp, impatient knocks.</p><p>“Ann, let me in.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Ann, this - this is embarrassing.”</p><p>“It’s embarrassing to - to be treated like this. You don’t even listen to me.”</p><p>“I’m not having a conversation with you through a bloody door. Let me in.”</p><p>Ann just pressed her face further into the pillow, unable to think rationally. Anne’s dismissive face loomed in her mind, her flat tone rang in her ears - did she really think so little of Ann? Had Ann been so thoroughly duped that she hadn’t realized this all along? It was Saturday, and Anne had spent the entire day working. She hadn’t even carve out an hour, a minute, a moment for her wife. Why the hell should Ann let her in?</p><p>She didn’t know how long passed before she heard Anne’s heavy tread, but the sun was setting. Ann rolled over in bed to see her wife, looking frustrated and tired in the doorway of their closet.</p><p>“Aunt Anne reminded me the bathroom door isn’t usually locked.”</p><p>“Oh.” </p><p>Ann turned away again.</p><p>“Can we talk about this, Ann? Like adults?”</p><p>“Are you going to give me more than two minutes?”</p><p>“I - yes, I am.”</p><p>“You didn’t even listen to me.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Ann turned over, sitting up in bed and hugging the pillow to her chest. </p><p>“You never asked me why I wanted it.”</p><p>“Just because you want something,” Anne said slowly; Ann could see the veins in her hand as she clenched her fist, “means that we have to have it? Does my not wanting something matter? Don’t I get a voice?”</p><p>“You didn’t give me a voice!” Ann cried. “I asked, and you said no, and the conversation was over.”</p><p>“What else was there to talk about?” Anne’s calm voice edged into frustration. “Do I have to give up everything to make you happy? I don’t get any say?”</p><p>“Give up everything? You haven’t given up anything! I gave up my home to be with you. We live in your house with your family. Our life revolves around your work and your estate and your - everything else. I don’t have anything that’s mine!”</p><p>“Yes, you do, Ann! You have the chaumiére -”</p><p>“I have a hut in the woods, and you have an entire bloody house!”</p><p>“I didn’t know you hated it so much,” Anne’s voice turned cold.</p><p>“I don’t hate it, Anne. God. I just want to - I want to have something that’s just for me.”</p><p>“We had this conversation when you first moved in; I thought we’d settled it.”</p><p>“Yeah, we did, and you know how you handled it back then? You held me,” Ann’s voice cracked, “and you listened to me, and you spent all day restoring that little hut and -” she couldn’t stop the tears running down her face, “and now you’re just gone all day and you won’t even listen to my side.”</p><p>Anne sighed; her jaw was still firm, but Ann could see her eyes softening. Maybe now, finally, she could hear what Ann was saying. </p><p>“I’m just very busy, Adney,” she said softly, taking a step closer. “I have a lot going on.”</p><p>“That’s the difference between you and me. You have a million things going on - you have purpose and tasks and people who rely on you - and I - I have my job, I guess.”</p><p>“You have me.”</p><p>“I have you, and you have the whole world. I feel so insignificant, Anne. I just want - I want to be important to someone.”</p><p>“You’re important to me.”</p><p>Anne hovered near the edge of the bed, though she seemed a million miles away. </p><p>“It doesn’t always feel like it,” Ann whispered. </p><p>“What?” Anne sank to her knees, looking up to catch Ann’s eye. “I thought - I mean, just last night, you were saying -”</p><p>“I know, I know,” Ann shook her head. “It doesn’t - I don’t always make sense. I - this time of year is really hard for me.”</p><p>“Okay,” Anne said slowly.</p><p>“My parents died in late January.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“I always feel so - so listless. I just want something to give me purpose.”</p><p>“You have your work, Adney. You have me, and you have the family. Are we not enough?”</p><p>“That’s not -” Ann shook her head again; she couldn’t find the right words. “I think if I had a distraction right now that would help me.”</p><p>“A pet is not a distraction,” Anne said gently. “It’s a lifelong commitment.”</p><p>“I know! I know, Anne, I - I just want something to curl up with me in the evenings and to love me and lick my face and -”</p><p>“I do all of those things,” Anne said quietly, the barest hint of a smile playing at her lips. Ann smiled too, reaching out to stroke the sharp line of her cheek. </p><p>“I know, darling. I want more. I - I think it would help me. I think it would be good for the whole family. It would mean a lot to me.”</p><p>“Are we - am I not enough?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Is that why you want a dog?” Anne asked quietly, her eyes downcast. </p><p>“What are you - is that why you don’t want one?” Ann tried to understand her wife’s point of view. “You’re jealous? Of a dog?”</p><p>“No, I - well, I don’t really care for dogs. Just, kind of, in general. I don’t dislike them, just - you know, they’re stinky and dirty and -”</p><p>“So are you,” Ann joked; wasn’t it strange that, even in the midst of an argument, there was still levity? The interwoven pieces of their relationship strained, but they didn’t break. </p><p>“Be that as it may,” Anne drawled, “I - I do worry about being enough for you. I didn’t want a dog this morning because I was worried about dirty paws. Now I’m worried that you’re growing tired of me already.”</p><p>“Anne,” she sighed, “it’s not that. Of course it’s not that. Sometimes I just - I want to have to have things that are my own.”</p><p>“You do,” Anne said stiffly. “You have the chaumiére and your work and you art.”</p><p>“And you have the estate and your work and your writing and the staff and the accounts. I want something to greet me at the door and cuddle with me at night.”</p><p>“I do that, Ann! I don’t -” Anne exhaled slowly. “We’re talking in circles.”</p><p>“Yeah, we are,” Ann sighed. “I still don’t understand why you’re so against this.”</p><p>For a long moment neither of them spoke. Ann could practically hear the wheels spinning in her wife’s head.</p><p>“I’m afraid,” she started, her voice so soft Ann almost missed it, “that you’re getting tired of me. I wasn’t afraid of that before. This morning, I - I was being a prick. And in my office too. I should’ve listened to you more. But all afternoon, while you were - while I was downstairs, I kept worrying about you - um, about you finding someone else. Someone who has more time and who doesn’t - isn’t such a self-absorbed ass. First it’s a puppy, then it’s a friend, then it’s something more. I want to be everything to you, Ann. I don’t want you to have to look somewhere else.”</p><p>“Pony.” Ann thought her heart might break at the vulnerability and fear in her wife’s eyes. “You do so much for me, darling. So much. More than anyone else ever has. But it’s not enough.” She watched her wife’s face fall. “It can’t be. You can’t be everything and everywhere. It’s not healthy. You have all kinds of things that occupy your time that aren’t me. Does that mean you love me less?”</p><p>“Of course not,” Anne answered adamantly.</p><p>“Okay,” Ann smiled, nodding her head. “You’re my entire world, Anne Lister. I just want - I want something to scratch behind the ears when you’re not available.” She ran her fingers through the hair at the back of Anne’s head, knowing that this gentle movement calmed her. “Okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Anne nodded, “are we - are <i>we</i> okay?”</p><p>“Almost.” Ann ran her hand down to Anne’s shoulder. “I understand your side, but you should understand mine. I don’t appreciate you dismissing me this morning.” Anne nodded, looking down like a repentant child. “You just said ‘no’ without even having a conversation. That’s not fair.”</p><p>“You’re right.”</p><p>“And then in your office, you didn’t even set your stupid papers down when I asked to speak to you.”</p><p>“You’re right.”</p><p>“Okay,” Ann smiled, “so if I’m right,” she paused, “then you were…”</p><p>“I was wrong,” Anne said to the ground; Ann squeezed her shoulder, and she looked up. “I was wrong, Ann Walker, and I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Who’s the head of this household?” The echo of Anne’s dry tone in the office still stung.</p><p>“I -” Anne stopped herself, “what’s the correct answer? I manage the estate and the staff, but you - I shouldn’t have said that you are my - my little wife. You’re my partner. Of course. I can’t make decisions like that on my own. It’s not a hierarchy,” Anne said as if reminding herself, “it’s - we’re standing side by side, not one in front of the other.”</p><p>“There we go.”</p><p>With a smile, Ann tilted her chin, and Anne leaned forward to kiss her softly. Ann could practically feel the anxiety rolling out of her body as Anne’s lips met hers. When she pulled away, Anne was grinning.</p><p>“Does it have to be a puppy?”</p><p>“Oh, yes,” Ann said seriously, “and he’s going to sleep in bed with us.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! </p><p>Shoutout to Sisiw_11 who suggested a while back that the Ann(e)s have a bit more of a fight than the two-paragraph situations I usually introduce. This was a really good exercise for me to figure out how/why they would have an argument like that and how they could come back together. </p><p>Because we have Anne’s diaries and because she seemed to have limitless energy, I’ve always felt a little unsure with Ann’s downtime. What does she <i>do</i>, you know? She paints? Okay, then what? Plus, that part of the dining room scene where Anne is like “you never need to be alone, you can be with me, always, at Shibden,” has always struck me as a little, I don’t know, off. Yes, it’s great that Ann has Anne, but she also needs her own stuff, too. That’s a source of tension between the two of them that I think could be interesting to explore - Anne has a rich life outside of the relationship, but Ann doesn’t. How does that interact with Anne’s jealousy and fears of inadequacy? I think it’s sort of interesting, but maybe not.</p><p>The make-up sex is in the next chapter. I wrote it all in one go, but I felt like there was a clear break between sections. Plus, I wanted to change perspectives.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. [Insert Water Metaphor]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A puppy. Anne was getting used to the idea. She was still feeling some residual guilt for her poor treatment of Ann; they’d made up, but this remorse lingered. It didn’t occur to her that Ann could be lonely. She never thought about what Ann did while she was out with the men or locked up in her office. Her own days were so full, and she assumed Ann’s were the same. She’d lived alone for years, hadn’t she? Was her life so empty before? With another twinge of regret, Anne realized it was. </p><p>Crawling into bed, she was taken by how beautiful her wife was. That bit in the office - what the hell had she been thinking? Flippant and dismissive. This incredible creature deserved so much better. Anne’s bad habits weren’t restricted to the bedroom; she was used to keeping the world at an arm’s length. The callous exterior was a stalwart form of protection, and it almost always worked. It worked with Ann, in fact, but she didn’t want to push her away like she did the rest of the world. What a stupid, old fool she was. </p><p>“I’m sorry, Adney,” she whispered, rolling onto her side with one arm curled above Ann’s head and one draping lightly over her middle. “I should’ve - I totally fucked up.”</p><p>“Yes, you did.” Ann tucked a hair behind her ear. “It’ll be okay, darling. We’re okay.”</p><p>“We are,” Anne said as much to herself as to her wife. </p><p>She dipped her head to catch Ann’s lips. They moved slowly, almost tentatively, and Anne trailed a hand down to the hem of Ann’s nightshirt. She traced her fingertips along the tops of Ann’s thighs, pushed the shirt up around her hips, drew shapeless patterns along her belly and down into the creases of her legs. And yet, when Anne slipped between her folds, no rush of warm arousal met her. Not even a trickle. Anne pulled her hand back, and then her head. Had this ever happened to them before? </p><p>“You’re dry,” she said softly, as if confused. Which, frankly, she was.</p><p>“I think spending all day so upset with you, uh,” Ann smoothed a hand along her shoulder and down her arm, interlacing their fingers, “has set me a bit wrong. Maybe we can just sleep.”</p><p>Anne nodded and rolled onto her back. She reached for their book and read nearly an entire chapter before Ann fell asleep on her chest. Flicking the book closed, she studied her wife’s face. How had she gone so wrong? One stupid mistake. Well, no, she amended, it was a series of mistakes. Dismissing Ann’s first request. Ignoring her to go speak with Pickles and Washington in the cold January sun. Thinking more about the property maps in her hands than the woman standing in her office. Then there was the berating from Aunt Anne, which had set her straight. That certainly helped. Not a mistake. But now, hours later, with apologies given and accepted, Anne was still suffering. Perhaps she’d broken it permanently. Ann could leave any time she wanted. Perhaps she would. Anne thought she might be sick.</p><p>She dreamed of empty hallways and cold beds. Ann laughing in the arms of someone else, someone who actually listened to her and gave a damn. Herself withering away, dry as a stick, alone in Shibden. All at once, she was in a desert, a tumbleweed rolling past. She was desperate for water, for beer, for anything. Dry. She almost couldn’t breathe. The sky was dark with clouds, but nothing fell. It dawned on her that she would die like this. Dehydrated and alone and no one would even care. She dry-heaved into the dirt. </p><p>And then a raindrop fell. </p><p>Just one, on the side of her neck. </p><p>Then another, behind her ear. </p><p>Again, along her jaw. </p><p>She opened her eyes to the darkness of their bedroom. Ann’s soft arms around her waist, her warm body pressed into her side, her wet lips trailing against her neck. She didn’t move, afraid to ruin the moment.</p><p>“Adney,” she whispered.</p><p>“Pony,” came the reply.</p><p>Ann was awake, she realized with relief; a part of her had been afraid this was a dream. Hers, perhaps, or Ann’s. But they were awake. Oh, they were awake, and Ann wanted her. It was two o’clock in the morning, and her wife still wanted her.</p><p>“Ann,” she breathed, turning to face her wife, their noses brushing. “I love you so much.”</p><p>“I love you,” Ann said with that gentle, soft smile. “I love you, Pony, of course.”</p><p>Nodding, Anne leaned forward to kiss her wife. Her wife who was still here. Her wife who hadn’t given up on her yet. Her wife whom she didn’t deserve, not even a little bit. Her wife who, if the sensation on Anne’s thigh was any indication, wasn’t so dry anymore. </p><p>“I was so afraid.” She eased Ann onto her back, straddling one of her thighs and cupping her face. “So afraid I’d lost you. I’m still afraid.”</p><p>“You won’t lose me, Pony.” Ann slipped a hand under Anne’s shirt, the other cupping the back of Anne’s head. “You’ve had me since the moment I laid eyes on you.”</p><p>The choice was between crying and kissing her, and Anne chose the latter. She kissed Ann slowly, pouring out her emotions, her remorse, her promises to do better. She bunched Ann’s nightshirt up to her shoulders, trailing gently down her neck to her breasts; she’d been thirsty in that dream desert, and now she was hungry, desperate to feel Ann between her lips and on her tongue. Ann’s fingers tangled in her hair as she took her breast in her mouth. Soft sighs and gentle hums wafted in the air as Anne paid slow, tender homage to her wife’s chest. She wanted to live in this valley between her breasts, set up home in the rhythm of her heart. As she teased Ann’s nipple with her tongue, she traced one hand between her legs to find her wife’s core. They both moaned.</p><p>“Pony,” Ann breathed, “I need you.”</p><p>“Do you?” Anne shifted forward, searching her eyes, needing the reminder. </p><p>“Yes, darling,” Ann nodded, sliding her hands around Anne’s waist and up her back. “I need you and I love you. Always.”</p><p>The perfect jolt to her ego. Ann always knew exactly what she needed, didn’t she? With a grin, Anne dipped her head to kiss her wife soundly. She traced through Ann’s arousal, vowing never again to take it for granted. With a few strokes between her folds and around her clit, Ann was gasping, clutching at Anne’s back, lifting her hips urgently. Grinding her own hips against Ann’s leg, Anne probed her wife’s entrance, hissing at the blissful warmth as she slid inside. </p><p>“Fuck, Adney,” she whispered into her neck, “you feel so good.”</p><p>Ann just nodded, rolling her hips in rhythm with Anne’s even, deep strokes. Remember this, Anne told herself, the way she feels in your arms; remember this, she demanded, the next time you think there’s something more important than your wife. She longed to imprint every moment on her memory: the sharp gasps, Ann’s parted lips, her greedy hands, and her aching clit. Ann was close, she could tell, so she brought their lips together once more, grinding her hips and curling her fingers just <i>so</i>.</p><p>“Anne!” </p><p>She caught Ann’s lips to stifle the rest of her cries, relishing the way she below her. Anne eased wave after wave from her, until, finally, Ann sagged back into the pillows. She gave Anne a lopsided, panting smile, groaning as Anne pulled her hand away.</p><p>“Oh, Pony.” She ran her hands down Anne’s face. “Oh, I love you.”</p><p>“I love you,” Anne grinned, sitting back on Ann’s thigh and holding her wet hand in front of her face; Ann’s eyes widened as Anne sucked the arousal from her own fingers. “I’ve never tasted anything sweeter.”</p><p>“Fuck, Pony,” Ann slid her hand into Anne’s boxers, “how are you so - fuck,” she found her clit in an instant, “so fucking hot.”</p><p>“It’s you,” Anne sighed, rolling her hips into Ann’s touch. “It’s all you.”</p><p>“Because you’re mine.” Ann pulled her down by the front of her shirt, circling Anne’s clit with increased fervor. “You’re mine, Anne Lister.” Their lips met sloppily as Anne careened toward the precipice; Ann’s words, her hands, her lips - it was too much. Anne wouldn’t last long. “Come for me, Anne. Come for me, because you belong to me.”</p><p>Her hips jerked as that sublime pleasure jolted into her gut and raced along her spine. She was mumbling incoherently, pleas of “yes” and “fuck” and “Adney.” With a groan, she collapsed onto her wife’s heaving chest, anchoring herself to this moment. She hadn’t ruined it. Not this time. Not yet. If she could manage it, not ever. </p><p>Those lips found her neck again, the soft, wet pressure that had saved her from the desert. Tears welled in her eyes, but she willed herself not to cry. It was okay. Ann was okay. They were okay. She inhaled deeply and shifted to lay beside her wife. </p><p>“Now go to sleep, Pony,” Ann teased. “We have church in the morning.”</p><p>By the time Anne awoke, however, she was in no mood for church. It was just after seven, the sun not yet risen, and her wife was just - just laying there. With her shirt still up around her breasts. The sheets had pooled around her hips in the night, leaving her creamy torso exposed. Anne laid a flat palm across her belly. Her wife stirred, opening her eyes sleepily. </p><p>“Pony,” she groaned, “it’s still night.”</p><p>“It’s 7:03, my love.”</p><p>“Are we going to church?”</p><p>“What if we didn’t?”</p><p>“Fine by me,” Ann closed her eyes again.</p><p>“Wake up, Adney,” Anne husked, walking her fingers up Ann’s chest, covering one breast with her palm. “What’s that song you were singing the other day? The one about shagging? Take me to church?”</p><p>“Very good,” Ann chuckled, opening her eyes and arching her back into Anne’s touch, “you almost got it.”</p><p>“If we’re not going to church,” Anne dragged her tongue over Ann’s exposed nipple, grinning at the shaky breath falling from her lips, “let’s do something a little sinful.”</p><p>“Yes, Pony.” Ann spread her legs, allowing Anne to settle in the cradle of her hips. “Yes.”</p><p>“Not that,” she massaged Ann’s breast in her hand, “I think making love,” she kissed her sternum, “is inherently sinful.” She sucked a red spot below her clavicle, taking both of Ann’s breasts in her hands, massaging them gently. “In fact,” she pressed her lips to Ann’s ribs, “I think it’s one of the best ways,” she repeated this process on the other side of her rib cage, “to worship God.” Still rolling Ann’s breasts in her hands, she trailed a line of kisses across her soft belly. “Taking pleasure in His creation. Like walking in nature or admiring a storm.” </p><p>“Pony,” Ann groaned, “are you seriously,” she moaned as Anne’s thumbs circled her nipples, “talking about God right now?”</p><p>“I guess I don’t have to,” Anne said thoughtfully, sliding her hands down to her wife’s hips. “I stand by it, though.”</p><p>“Pony.” Ann lifted her hips. “Come on.”</p><p>“Impatient Adney.” Anne laid on her belly, inhaling deeply of her wife’s arousal. “I do love you so.”</p><p>The first taste was always the best. It was like she forgot how perfect Ann was, how exquisite her body was, how clearly she’d been made for Anne. Her slim hips fit perfectly in Anne’s hands, and her knees slotted neatly over her shoulders. Ann was mumbling above her, her hips rolling gently into Anne’s tongue, her slick arousal flooding Anne’s every sense. Perhaps Anne would drown like this. Was there anything closer to heaven?”</p><p>“Pony, fuck, right - yes, baby, please.” Anne looked up for a moment, enfolding Ann’s clit with her tongue; her wife was flushed, palming her own breasts, panting and holding her eyes shut in concentration. “I’m so - I’m so close, Pony.”</p><p>“I bet you are,” Anne purred, running her index finger through Ann’s folds. “Fuck, Adney,” she nipped at the inside of Ann’s thigh, “you’re so wet.”</p><p>“Pony,” she moaned, angling her hips upward.</p><p>“You feel so good,” Anne breathed, slipping her index finger inside. “You’re so beautiful.” She climbed over her wife’s body, starting a steady rhythm and massaging that perfect, spongy spot. “You’re so fucking hot, Ann.”</p><p>Ann’s hands dug into her back, pulling her close; her hips rutted into Anne’s hand. The room filled with the slick, dirty sound of their bodies meeting, their heavy breathing, their whispered declarations. </p><p>“Yes, Pony, there, fuck-”</p><p>“God, Ann, you’re just-”</p><p>“Harder, unh, please.”</p><p>“Is that-”</p><p>“Right there.”</p><p>“Fuck, Ann-”</p><p>“Yes, Pony, yes.”</p><p>“I can’t get enough of you, Ann Walker.”</p><p>With that, Ann let out a choked moan, stretching taut as she clenched around Anne’s fingers and arched into her body. Anne kissed her neck, her shoulder, her clavicle; perhaps this was heaven, she mused - feeling the woman she loved come apart in her arms. When Ann’s hands fell limply to the bed, Anne tore off her nightclothes and scuttled over to the nightstand. She was on fire, but she needed one more thing.</p><p>“Where -” Ann panted, “where are you going?”</p><p>“Can we,” Anne’s hips jerked as Ann smoothed a hand along her belly, “can we, uh,” she held up the bullet vibrator, “can we try to be quiet?”</p><p>“No promises, Pony,” Ann said as she twisted out of her shirt with a smirk. </p><p>“Do your best,” Anne grinned as she intertwined their legs. </p><p>This was what she needed, Anne thought as their cores met, sending two relieved exhalations into the air. She needed this tangible reminder of their connection. The most physical joining of their selves. The wettest, sloppiest, most intimate thing they could do. For a few moments, they just moved together, grinding their hips and shifting their weight and biting their lips. How Anne longed to cry out, to call Ann’s name until she was hoarse, to go deaf from the sheer volume of Ann’s screams. But it wasn’t realistic, was it? No, for now they moved in a tiny, soft-spoken bubble, whispering and rolling and caressing.</p><p>“Just there, Pony, fuck.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Anne grinned, twisting her hips again.</p><p>“Are you close?” Ann whined, her eyes wide with desperation.</p><p>“Yeah,” she breathed, reaching for the vibrator.</p><p>“Wait, Pony, can - is that -” Ann closed her eyes, speaking in a rush: “will that thing work if it gets wet?”</p><p>“What?” Anne froze, fighting back a laugh. </p><p>“If I,” Ann’s hands dug into her hips, “if I squirt, will that - would that mess it up?”</p><p>“No, baby,” she answered softly. “I can’t think of anything better.”</p><p>With a twist of her hand, Anne turned on the vibrator, easing it between their bodies just so. In an instant, she felt the warm rush of Ann squirting, her gentle moan sending electricity up Anne’s spine. </p><p>“Oh, fuck,” she groaned, as her climax approached. “Oh, Ann.”</p><p>It was only a matter of seconds, before her release overtook her; Anne shook, her hips juddering as the waves crashed into her. So many water metaphors, she thought absently, her body too overcome by pleasure to find a new comparison. Ann came in the same moment, or just after, and they held each other as they trembled and gasped. With a shaking hand, Anne reached between them for the bullet, flicking it off and tossing it next to them. Ann tilted her chin; their lips met languidly. Anne balanced on her forearms, disentangling their legs, dropping her body back down against her wife’s. She pulled away, and for a moment they just gazed at each other. </p><p>“I love you,” she whispered.</p><p>“I love you,” Ann smiled, “even though you’re a sap.”</p><p>“I am not,” Anne laughed, rolling to the side and pulling Ann’s back to her chest. “Maybe I am,” she breathed in her ear, “but you’ve made me this way.”</p><p>“Ridiculous,” her wife answered, sleepily patting her forearm. “Let’s go back to sleep.”</p><p>“It’s morning.”</p><p>“Barely,” Ann yawned. “Besides, today could be a big day.”</p><p>“Why’s that?”</p><p>“Because, Anne darling, later, when we get up,” Ann took a hand from around her waist, kissing her knuckles before continuing, “we are going to look at puppies.”</p><p>Anne groaned, but she said nothing else. Ann would get her puppy. Her puppy or her kitten or her elephant. Whatever Ann Walker wanted, Anne would ensure that she got, come hell or high water.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! </p><p>Based on “on getting into bed las tonight, tried Mariana for a kiss but she was quite dry. Told her of it. She said I had set her wrong by being so queer while we were out. I said no more. Made no further attempt &amp; we soon fell asleep. Awoke at two o’clock. A little play &amp; two good kisses at once... awoke again at seven &amp; then had three good ones all at once...we fell asleep again &amp; slept till nine” September 23, 1825. Anne...don’t tell your girl if she’s dry...like...girl</p><p>Thank you thank you thank you for your thoughtful and generous comments. I see y’all lurkers too, but I can’t tell if you like me or not? I see that hit count go up, but I’m not sure what it means. Sometimes posting chapters can feel like screaming into the void, so I can’t tell you how much I appreciate when y’all talk back. Thank you!! ☺️☺️☺️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. A Bit Tubby, But Very Friendly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Can we get back to fluffiness?<br/>Please.<br/>Yo.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I think I worked something out,” Anne said as they climbed into the Jeep that afternoon. “When I was doing my journal this morning.”</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“This bit about being ‘everything.’ It’s selfish. Of me.” Anne spoke haltingly, trying to recreate the easy flow of words to her journal. “It’s not fair to you. You have your whole separate life, and I wouldn’t want - I don’t want to keep you locked away from the world. I want to give you all the things that you want and deserve, so - so here’s my problem.”</p><p>Ann nodded slowly, her brow furrowed.</p><p>“Every other woman in my past, except maybe Eliza, has had me as, like, like a side dish. I wanted so desperately to be the centerpiece for someone. The romantic lead. But mostly, uh, mostly I’ve been a side character. I’m mixing my metaphors, but -” Anne took her wife’s hand, “but I think this desire to be everything for you comes from that. I’m just so fucking happy to be the main course. With Mariana, it was always - I was always sharing her. You know? I don’t have to share you, and now I’m getting greedy. I don’t want to keep you from anything, and I’m afraid of losing you.That's my problem and I’ll work on it.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Ann said softly. “You’re so careful with me. It’s really special, and it’s why I was surprised yesterday.” Anne looked down, her heart still heavy with her own bullheadedness. “When you’re present like this, no one could ask for a better partner. Just don’t get caught up.” Anne nodded. “And, silly girl, you don’t keep me from the world. If anything, Pony, you’ve expanded my world. Don’t you know that?”</p><p>“Yes,” Anne said seriously. “I love you.”</p><p>“And I love you,” Ann said in that offhand, casual way that made her heart soar; love as a habit rather than a production. “Now, let’s go.”</p><p>“Alright, alright,” Anne chuckled, pulling out of the driveway. “Did you talk to Marian?”</p><p>“Yes, so if we meet one we like, we can just call her and she’ll bring Argus.”</p><p>“Good. We might not see any that we like, Adney. Don’t get one just to get one.”</p><p>“I know, I know, and Celia texted me back to say I could do two days a week until we got a bit settled.”</p><p>“I think that’s a great idea.” </p><p>“With the term starting on Wednesday, I just - I don’t want to bring him home and then go right to work.”</p><p>“I think that’s very wise.”</p><p>“And he’ll never be alone. You know, even when we’re at work.”</p><p>“I’m already convinced,” Anne laughed; “I’m on your side.”</p><p>“I know, I know,” Ann nodded, as if reminding herself.</p><p>They were headed to the nearest animal shelter. Though they’d never discussed it until this morning, they were both vehemently opposed to breeders. Argus has been a rescue, the old lug, as had all of their dogs in the past. The Walkers had had a few rescues when Ann was growing up, but Ann had never had any sort of pet when she lived alone.</p><p>“Thank you, Pony,” Ann said softly as they pulled into the lot. “This means a lot to me.”</p><p>“It’s your house too. If you want a dog, and I don’t have a good reason not to get one...” Anne shrugged. </p><p>“But the thing is - you know, when I - when I lived at Crow Nest - when I was alone, the tribe said - basically, they blocked me from getting a pet. They said I was too unstable, even - uh, even when my therapist said I might do well with a - uh, an emotional support animal, you know?” Anne nodded, taking Ann’s hand; how many layers of hurt were wrapped up in this tiny little package? “So now that I have you and the family and Argus and - it’s such a - it’s better for the dog. Even if we don’t see any today that we like, it’s - um, it’s important that - it means a lot to me that I can even try.”</p><p>“Ann.” It was all she could think of to say; sometimes the depth of Ann’s sadness took her breath. </p><p>“So you see, darling Pony, you make my world larger. You give me so much. This whole life that -” Ann exhaled with a broad smile, “that wasn’t even possible for me before.”</p><p>“We might not find one today.”</p><p>“And that’s okay,” Ann said serenely, “because even getting the chance to look is a big step.”</p><p>“Okay,” Anne kissed her quickly. “Let’s go.”</p><p>The shelter was nice, Anne thought. Clearly recently renovated. A large, high-ceilinged entrance, with visiting rooms to the left and a forked hallway to the right. One hall led to the cat area, and one led to the rows of dog enclosures. There were a few other people milling around, families and an old woman and a gaggle of university students being too loud. An employee in khaki shorts and a t-shirt with the shelter’s logo shooed the students toward the cat area, muttering about volunteers and cleaning cages. Ann grinned, taking her hand and leading her toward the dog section.</p><p>The dogs were kept in a series of little rooms with glass fronts. Some were in small cubicles by themselves, some shared space with other dogs. The whole place smelled of disinfectant and urine and kibble; another employee stood at the end of the hall with a small pen full of small, wiggling shapes. The puppies, Anne assumed, as her wife dropped her hand and rushed forward. </p><p>Anne took a different approach, wanting to give Ann space to scope out the puppies on her own. She meandered along the glass wall, reading the information cards and smiling sadly at the inmates. A few were scared, a few chewed on toys, a few seemed not to notice Anne at all. Then she reached a communal cell right in the middle; three name cards were stuck to the glass: Boris (a twelve-year-old Shih Tzu), Edna (an eleven-year-old Chihuahua), and Tiny (a seven-year-old Rat Terrier). Boris and Edna did not seem to notice Anne at all; in fact, Boris was relieving himself on the tile in the middle of the cell. Tiny, however, stood right at the glass at Anne’s feet, wagging her round behind.</p><p>Tiny, the poor thing, was in fact grossly overweight. She looked to be about twice as large as she ought to be, though Anne had no real frame of reference for this breed she’d never heard of. It was a catch-all, she figured, another word for “just a dog.” Tiny was black, with pointy ears and a graying muzzle; she had a streak of white along her chest and on her front paws. At the tops of her ears, she might’ve reached Anne’s knee; she was small, but she was solid. Somewhere between a Jack Russell and a Miniature Pinscher. Anne was struck by how friendly the little dog seemed, how her little docked tail was lost in the fat around her rear end, how someone must have loved her a lot to overfeed her so much. Why had she been given up? </p><p>“There’s a really cute little yellow lab,” Ann slid an arm around her waist, “who is this little one?”</p><p>“They call her Tiny,” Anne said softly, “isn’t that mean?”</p><p>“She’s sweet.” Ann crouched down, getting level with the panting dog; the little black orb waddled over to inspect her. “Do you want to look at the puppies?”</p><p>“Whatever you want, darling.” </p><p>“She sure is sweet.” Ann seemed distracted; perhaps Tiny had entranced Ann the same way she had Anne.</p><p>“She’s been here over a month.”</p><p>“How old is she?”</p><p>“Seven.”</p><p>“Not too old for a dog this size.”</p><p>“Old enough that she’s not likely to get adopted. Black fur, too. This is a no-kill shelter, but -”</p><p>“I think I love her,” Ann grinned; the dog was little more than a blur of wagging fat, desperate to get closer to them. “Can we meet her?”</p><p>“Do you - she’s not a puppy.”</p><p>“I know,” Ann said easily, “but I like her.”</p><p>“I do too.”</p><p>“Let’s meet the puppy.” Ann straightened, wrapping an arm around her waist. “And Tiny and see if we need to call Marian.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>They trudged back to the entrance; Anne felt a bit sick at the thought of leaving Tiny. This was Ann’s decision, and if she didn’t want Tiny, that was fine. Anne would just find a suitable home for Tiny anyway. She couldn’t bear the thought of that sweet, energetic dog living with Boris, who did his business right there on the floor. They filled out some forms, or, rather, Ann started them, then passed them to Anne.</p><p>“Thank you, Pony,” she cooed, curling into her side and parking her chin on Anne’s shoulder. Anne loved to do little things like this for her wife. “We’re lucky they’re not too busy.”</p><p>“We are,” Anne handed the forms back; they were led to a small visitation room. “Remember, darling, we don’t have to force anything. Get the dog that’s right for you. If that dog isn’t here today, that’s okay.”</p><p>“I know, Pony.”</p><p>The room was bright, with a large window on the far wall and white walls and that same, easy-to-clean tile as the rest of the building. Anne perched on one of the chairs, but her wife sat down on the floor. She tossed her coat to Anne, who laughed and piled their jackets and scarves on the windowsill. </p><p>“The floor? Don’t you think it’s dirty?”</p><p>“Oh, whatever,” Ann laughed, “this is the way to meet a dog.”</p><p>Anne grinned, shaking her head at this adorable little person. Ann pulled her hair back in a ponytail, holding out her hand; dutifully, Anne handed over her hairtie. She watched those blonde curls twist and bounce as Ann tied them back. Ann straightened her sweatshirt on her shoulders, spreading her denim-clad legs wide in preparation for the onslaught. A smiling employee eased the door open, leading a small, yellow puppy into the room. </p><p>“He’s really friendly,” the employee said. “I’ll give you all a moment to get acquainted.</p><p>“Is he?” Anne asked sardonically as the dog proceeded to sniff every corner of the room. He didn’t even give Ann a glance. </p><p>“Come here, boy,” Ann called, and the puppy trotted over. She scratched his back, his ears, along his hindquarters. “He’s sweet.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Anne agreed as the employee slipped out of the room.</p><p>“I actually think he - gosh, he doesn’t seem particularly excited,” Ann frowned. “I thought he’d be, like, licking my face and jumping up and down. He doesn’t seem bothered at all.”</p><p>“Maybe he’s just calm,” Anne offered. “That’s good, isn’t it? Don’t want someone too hyperactive.”</p><p>“I guess,” Ann said softly, but Anne could see the disappointment on her wife’s face. “Can we see Tiny, too?”</p><p>“Sure,” Anne nodded, trying to hide her excitement. </p><p>The employee returned, leading the puppy away and promising to return with the rotund older dog. Ann sucked her teeth, turning to look up at her wife. </p><p>“I don’t think he much cared for me.”</p><p>“No?” Anne chuckled.</p><p>“No. I think that’s pretty rude.”</p><p>“Yeah, screw him.”</p><p>“Yeah, screw that little puppy,” Ann laughed. “We hate him now.”</p><p>“Damn straight.”</p><p>The door creaked open, and Tiny waddled into the room. Anne’s heart soared as the bundle of black fur raced into Ann’s open legs, sniffing her chest and hands and face; Tiny’s bottom wagged so hard Anne worried she might strain it. </p><p>“She’s very friendly,” Ann laughed as Tiny pressed her snout into her cheek. </p><p>Tiny rolled onto her back, her spindly legs straight in the air. Ann rubbed her belly affectionately; Anne noticed a small green ‘X’ on the dog’s abdomen. </p><p>“What’s that?” Anne asked the employee, pointing to the mark. </p><p>“That’s a tattoo that means she was spayed at a shelter; sometimes they come off, sometimes the fur grows back, but Tiny has a pretty thin coat on her belly.” </p><p>Anne nodded, studying the dog who was reveling in Ann’s belly scratches and soft words. </p><p>“So she was spayed recently? When she was surrendered?”</p><p>“Well, uh, no. On both accounts. She came in as a stray -”</p><p>“A stray?” Ann looked up. “As - as big as she is?”</p><p>“I know,” the employee chuckled. “She must’ve gotten away from someone’s yard, but she wasn’t microchipped and no one has come to look for her. We did try to find the owner.”</p><p>Anne nodded, wondering who in the world wouldn’t look for this sweet dog. Ann cooed softly as the dog trotted over to sniff Anne’s boots; Anne reached down to scratch between her ears. </p><p>“And she was already spayed when we found her,” the employee continued.</p><p>“So she’s been to a shelter before?” Ann asked.</p><p>“Must’ve been,” the employee shrugged. “We couldn’t find the record, but it’s hard without a chip. Maybe a rural shelter. The chip process hasn’t always been well-implemented.”</p><p>“Right,” Ann nodded, her eyes trained on the dog, who was now rubbing her sides along Anne’s legs; with just a few taps to the floor, she coaxed Tiny back into the V of her legs. “I think - uh, Anne, do you want to call Marian?”</p><p>“Do you?” </p><p>“I do,” Ann said sincerely, staring at the dog’s little face.</p><p>“So, we have another dog at home,” Anne told the employee. “My sister’s. He’s gentle and very easy-going, but we would like for them to meet before we make a decision. Is that possible?”</p><p>“Absolutely,” the employee nodded. “Give your sister a call, and have her go to the side entrance. What’s she look like?”</p><p>Ann gave a brief description of Marian and Argus, while Anne called her sister.</p><p>“Can you bring Argus?”</p><p>“Hello, sister,” Marian teased. “How’s the search going?”</p><p>“It’s going very well. Can you bring Argus?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” she drawled. “I’m pretty busy.”</p><p>“Damn it, Marian!”</p><p>“Alright, alright,” Marian laughed. “We can be there in about a half hour.”</p><p>“Good. They say to go to the side entrance. They’ll be looking for you.”</p><p>“Great, I can’t wait to -”</p><p>Anne hung up, grinning at her wife as the employee left the room. Ann looked up, and her chest swelled. Her smile was so bright and wide and genuine; Tiny turned around, offering Ann her hindquarters for scratching, her mouth open in a toothy, doggy smile. They looked good together - slight Ann with her blonde curls and this dark, fat dog with the white chest and paws. Ann had that face on - the one when Anne woke her up in the morning or when the entire family laughed at her joke or when they just finished doing something particularly dirty. Pleased and excited, teetering on the edge of disbelief. </p><p>“Is she the one?” Anne ventured.</p><p>“I think she might be,” Ann giggled as the dog licked her face. “Go see your other mummy,” she whispered in the dog’s perky ear; “go see Daddy.”</p><p>“Daddy, is it?” Anne purred as Tiny wiggled over to her. “Not mummy?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Ann said thoughtfully, learning back against the wall. “I kind of want to be Mummy. Or Mama. Not sure what that leaves for you.”</p><p>“She can call me ‘Anne.’”</p><p>“No,” Ann chided, “she’s our child.”</p><p>“She’s an adult dog.”</p><p>“No,” Ann hummed, “she’s a baby.” </p><p>“Okay,” she laughed, “that’s fine.  You be Mama, and I can be Mum.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Anne breathed as the dog trotted back to her wife, “because I think I’d like to call you Mama. You know, when we’re alone.”</p><p>“Is that right, Daddy?”</p><p>Anne licked her lips, desire swirling in her gut. Ann Walker might be the death of her. Adorable and sweet and sexy. Good with animals. Generous. Beautiful, of course. Smiling at Anne like she was the center of the universe. </p><p>“I think she’s,” Ann shook her head, looking down at the dog sitting between her legs and panting into her face, “I think she picked us. She’s ours.”</p><p>“I think so too,” Anne said thoughtfully. </p><p>The door creaked open, and the employee reappeared. She looped a lead around Tiny’s neck and handed it to Ann, who held her close to her chest. Marian and Argus came in next. Tiny strained at her lead, but the employee led the two dogs slowly together, allowing them to circle each other, sniff behinds, and edge closer. Argus seemed bemused by the small, round bundle of fur, and Tiny seemed fascinated with the tall, lanky beast. Not that Anne was projecting human emotions on dogs. She just noticed the way that Tiny sniffed Argus’s shaggy fur and the patience he seemed to exude as she pressed her nose into him. </p><p>“I think they like each other,” the employee said, and Anne breathed a sigh of relief. She’d been nervous the dogs wouldn’t get along, and she wasn’t exactly sure when or how they would get the all-clear. “Let me run your paperwork, and I’ll be right back.”</p><p>She left, leaving the three women and two dogs alone. Marian sat on the floor across from Ann. </p><p>“She’s cute.”</p><p>“Isn’t she?” Ann gushed. “Not exactly what I’d been thinking, but…”</p><p>“You have to let the dog choose,” Marian offered wisely; Argus flopped onto his side in front of her, allowing Tiny to inspect his belly. “I wanted a dog to fit inside my purse when Argus picked me.”</p><p>“We’ll have to get all the stuff,” Ann said, turning to Anne. “On the way home. Bed, crate, food, toys, treats. We should get her an appointment with the vet.”</p><p>“Yep,” Anne nodded. “We can do that.”</p><p>“She needs to lose weight,” Ann said thoughtfully. “I want her to be healthy.”</p><p>“There’s weight-loss food,” Marian offered. “Lots of walks and the right diet, she’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Ready?” The employee appeared at the door. “If you’ll just follow me, we can take care of her fees and registration and everything else.”</p><p>Marian made her exit; if Anne were prone to fanciful imagination, she’d have said Argus seemed disappointed to leave his new buddy. But she wasn’t, so she repressed that thought. They walked toward the front desk, Tiny on a lead in Ann’s hand, but as they moved closer to the hallway leading to the kennels, Tiny started to protest. Anne didn’t want to ascribe the dog human qualities, but the dog certainly didn’t seem to want to go back to that room with Boris and Edna. She rolled onto her back, legs straight in the air, refusing to move; Ann tugged on the lead, but she was heavy. </p><p>“Passive resistance,” Anne joked, patting her wife’s lower back. “I’ll do all of this. Why don’t you sit by the window?”</p><p>Anne watched as her wife stepped toward the front of the building, and Tiny jumped to her feet. She didn’t want to put thoughts in the canine brain, but Tiny certainly seemed to know which way was home. Anne filled out the rest of the paperwork, swiping her own card for the adoption fee; breathing deeply, she reminded herself to let Ann pay for the rest of the dog’s set-up costs. It was about being even. She could remember that.</p><p>“All set,” Anne pronounced as she sauntered to the chair where Ann sat with Tiny at her feet. She shrugged into her coat. “Let’s go.”</p><p>They rode to the pet store with Tiny in Ann’s lap in the passenger seat. Objectively, Anne knew that the fat dog was panting from the extra weight and exertion on her body, but Tiny’s open mouth sure did look like a smile. Inside, Tiny trotted happily next to Ann as they filled a cart with every conceivable necessity. </p><p>“And these,” Ann said, dropping another bag of treats into the trolley.</p><p>“Ann. She needs to lose weight; we can’t give her seventeen kinds of treats.”</p><p>“Well! I don’t know which ones she’ll like.”</p><p>“Obviously, she likes all kinds of treats.”</p><p>“Don’t listen to Mum,” Ann told the dog; “she doesn’t understand.”</p><p>Anne couldn’t bear to look at the total as Ann paid for what was certainly enough toys, treats, and bedding for three dogs. She loaded the bags into the back of the Jeep, shaking her head at the extravagance of it all.</p><p>“That dog is already spoiled rotten,” she told her wife as she climbed in the driver’s seat.</p><p>“She’s had a hard life, Pony. Don’t be stingy.”</p><p>“I’m not stingy; I just wonder why she needs more than one water bowl.”</p><p>“In case she gets thirsty upstairs!”</p><p>“What about the memory foam bed?”</p><p>“She’s getting older, Anne. The extra weight? Her joints need the support.”</p><p>“And the fitness tracker for her collar?”</p><p>“How else can we keep track of her steps? You want me to just guess how many calories she’s burning?”</p><p>Anne could only laugh and shake her head, reaching over to scratch Tiny between the ears.</p><p>“Do you hear that, Tiny? Your Mama is ridiculous.”</p><p>“If you’re going to be this way with our children,” Ann clicked her tongue, “I don’t know what we’ll do.”</p><p>She didn’t push it, not today; the thought of children still made her stomach flip, equal parts good and bad. It was nice to see Ann like this, playful and excited. Her slender fingers reached across to trace along the nape of Anne’s neck and scratch at the base of her scalp. Was there any better feeling than this?</p><p>And yet, for every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction. For the bliss of the car ride, there was the plain fact of lugging in Ann’s purchases. Joseph and Thomas were off on Sunday, and Ann and Tiny rushed right into the house, no doubt to revel with the rest of the family in the newest addition. Over the course of five trips, Anne managed to bring all of Tiny’s supplies inside. When she finally finished, the family was still cooing over Tiny, Marian and Ann on the floor with the dogs, Father and Aunt Anne admiring from their recliners. Anne flopped into the armchair. </p><p>“There she is,” Ann smiled, patting her foot.</p><p>“What do we think?” Anne asked the room. “Shall we keep her?”</p><p>“Oh yes,” Aunt Anne said quickly, giggling as the dog’s wet nose pressed against her hand. “She’s a delight.”</p><p>“A bit tubby,” Father teased, patting his leg and grunting as she hopped into his lap, “but very friendly.”</p><p>“She’s the best,” Ann gushed, climbing into Anne’s lap. “I’m so glad she gets along with everyone.”</p><p>And the rest of the evening passed in much the same way. Compliment after compliment for Tiny. Ann’s bright smile lighting up the room. An additional wet nose snuffling along under the dinner table. Two sets of doggy snores joining the geriatrics’. Ann unpacked everything, consulting with Marian over where to set up bowls, kennels, beds. To no one’s surprise, Tiny was a greedy eater, but she was not aggressive about it. She actually had remarkably good house manners; Anne felt another twinge, thinking of the people who’d given her up. Someone had trained her, had taken the time to teach her simple commands. And yet. Twice she’d been at a shelter. Anne shook the thought away, focusing instead on her future. She’d been given up twice, but she wouldn’t be again.</p><p>“Here we go, Tiny,” Ann cajoled as they walked upstairs for bed. The bundle of black fur climbed slowly, pausing midway to catch her breath. “Sweet girl. You’ll feel better soon. We’ll get you in shape.”</p><p>“Now, Ann, where is Tiny going to sleep?”</p><p>“In bed with us,” Ann said simply.</p><p>“And you and I,” Anne drawled, “are just - going to go to bed?”</p><p>“Well, I,” Ann faltered. “Hmmm. I see your point.”</p><p>“Argus sleeps in his own bed, downstairs or in Marian’s room.”</p><p>“It’s her first night, Pony; she might want to be with us.”</p><p>The point was rendered moot, however, when Tiny curled up in her memory foam bed in the corner of their bedroom. Ann scoffed, but Anne just wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into her side. </p><p>“Perfect, Mrs. Lister. Tiny knows her place.”</p><p>“I’m a little disappointed,” Ann pouted.</p><p>“You’d rather sleep with a dog?”</p><p>“I already sleep with a dog,” Ann breathed, stretching up to catch Anne’s lips for a moment. “But I like you just fine.”</p><p>“Incorrigible.” Anne walked her back toward the bed. “Absolutely incorrigible.”</p><p>Ann just smiled and pulled Anne’s shirt over her head; with a single lifted brow, she draped her arms over Anne’s shoulders. Leaning forward, Anne kissed her, slowly and softly, undoing her jeans in the process. Pulling away with a nibble to Anne’s bottom lip, Ann sat on the edge of the bed and wrenched her jeans open. Anne ran her hands over her wife’s shoulders, along her neck, up into her hair. She pulled that hairtie free and ran her fingers through her wife’s curls. </p><p>“Our own little family,” Ann whispered, leaning forward to press her lips to Anne’s stomach. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?” Anne hummed, closing her eyes as Ann’s soft lips pressed against her belly and her gentle hands eased her trousers over her hips. “I love you, Pony.”</p><p>“I love you,” Anne murmured.</p><p>“Come here,” her wife coaxed, pivoting Anne to sit on the bed while she shucked her own jeans, “lie down.”</p><p>Furrowing her brow, Anne stretched out on the bed; Ann knelt between her legs, hooked her fingers in Anne’s shorts, and pulled them off. Biting her lip, Anne settled more deeply into the pillows; Ann almost never went first like this.</p><p>“You,” Ann kissed the inside of her knee, “are so,” then the other, “hot.” Anne hummed as her wife pressed her legs further apart and started to drag her tongue along the tops of her thighs. “Filling out paperwork,” Ann groaned, “it’s sort of sexy.”</p><p>“What?” Anne chuckled.</p><p>“Something about your hands.” Ann kissed each hip bone. “Your fingers holding a pen.” She laid between Anne’s legs, her breath hot against Anne’s core. “You’re so confident. I don’t know, Pony. It kind of got me going.”</p><p>Anne opened her mouth to make a joke, but instead she gasped as her wife’s soft tongue ran the length of her center. Soft hands roamed her thighs, up to her hips, and along her sides as Ann began her gentle ministrations. Tender lapping along her folds, the barest tease to her entrance, not nearly enough pressure against her clit. Anne willed herself to enjoy it, not to rush, to take her fill of the pleasure Ann was giving her. </p><p>And yet.</p><p>After what felt like an eternity, Ann was still teasing her. She worked slowly, methodically, building an intense flame between her wife’s legs. Anne lifted her hips, a silent question. Ann’s gentle hands pressing her back down gave her the answer: not so fast. Ann sped up, focusing a bit more on her clit, but she seemed determined to kill Anne with this exquisite torture. Then she started moaning against Anne’s core, just soft little hums that vibrated against Anne’s skin and set her aflame. Her tongue pressed harder; her lips became more insistent. </p><p>“Adney,” she whispered. </p><p>There was no verbal response, but Ann did hold her hips a bit tighter. She took Anne’s clit between her lips, and Anne nearly exploded on the spot. Instead, she reached down to hold onto Ann’s head, an anchor in the rushing tide of her release. The waves rolled up on her steadily, building in strength and intensity as Ann sucked and lapped and stroked. Her hips bucked once, and Anne couldn’t hold off anymore. With a soft, wordless moan, she surrendered, her back arching from the bed, every muscle in her body tensing. Her entire body seemed to be on fire; the only relief was Ann’s eager mouth teasing every drop from her. </p><p>“Oh, fuck,” she sighed as she collapsed back into the sheets. She hadn’t realized how much tension she’d been holding in her body all day, how nervous she’d been about the shelter, the dog, the family; Ann had set her right. She propped herself on her elbows and croaked, “how did you know?” </p><p>“What?” </p><p>Ann pressed her lips to her belly before crawling up to hover over her face. Anne took that gorgeous, shining, smiling face in her hands, kissed her wife soundly, then pulled back in awe.</p><p>“How’d you know just what I needed?”</p><p>“You <i>always</i> need that, Pony,” Ann chuckled, lowering herself to rest on Anne’s chest. </p><p>“No, I - I mean, just like that. I didn’t realize I was - I guess I was a bit nervous today. About today going well. About you - um, you getting what you wanted. You know?” Anne ran her hand along Ann’s spine, which always seemed to ground her. “And I didn’t even know that I was, and then - and then you just took me apart.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Ann said simply. “I just love you, that’s all. I could feel it, I think. What you needed.”</p><p>“You’re incredible.”</p><p>Anne kissed her again, rolling her gently onto her back. Ann grinned up at her - how was she still wearing underwear?</p><p>“This, Miss Walker?” Anne slid her hands under her wife’s back to twist off her bra, then held it up in the air. “Ridiculous. Not a bra.”</p><p>“Then what is it?” Ann giggled.</p><p>“Torture device?” She teased, leaning forward to press her lips to the swell of each breast. “If I’d known you were wearing it all day - fuck, Adney,” she dragged her tongue over Ann’s nipple, “I might not have made it.” </p><p>She shifted, rolling Ann’s nipple between her fingers as she took Ann’s other breast between her lips. </p><p>“What would you rather?” Ann joked breathlessly. “I wear some thick cotton thing like you?”</p><p>“Absolutely not,” Anne bit down gently on her wife’s collar bone. </p><p>“How about nothing at all?” Ann arched her back as Anne sucked on her pulse point.</p><p>“You know,” she trailed her lips up Ann’s neck, “that could work,” she brought their lips together for a series of short, sloppy kisses, “but I do like unwrapping you.”</p><p>“So do it,” Ann dared, rolling her hips up into Anne’s.</p><p>“Like I said,” she sat back on her heels, hooking her fingers in the waistband of Ann’s panties, “incorrigible.”</p><p>“You love it.”</p><p>“I do,” Anne dropped down over her once more. “I really, really do.”</p><p>She brought their lips together again, trailing her hand over Ann’s breast, down her side, along her hip, and around her thigh. Squeezing playfully, she reveled in her wife’s soft and supple skin. Ann’s restless hands tangled in her hair, ran along her arm, traced over her back; her hips bucked into Anne’s. Pressing her lips to Ann’s neck, Anne stroked gently between her thighs, exhaling in gratitude at the thick arousal greeting her. She wouldn’t forget the previous night any time soon.</p><p>“Pony,” came the gentle whine, “come on.”</p><p>Anne teased her clit for a moment before thrusting sharply inside, eliciting at gasp from her wife’s lips. She started an even, deep rhythm, stroking Ann’s clit with every pass. Ann’s hands dug into her shoulders, her hips rising to match her rhythm. </p><p>“There, Pony, yes.”</p><p>“You feel so good.”</p><p>“Faster.”</p><p>“Fuck, Ann, you - fuck, you’re doing so well.”</p><p>“Please, I - fuck, I - unh, I’m close.”</p><p>“I know, baby.” Anne kissed the side of her neck, her arm burning as her hand rutted into the clutching warmth of her wife; she felt Ann’s walls contract. “Right there, hmmm?” Ann moaned. “Oh, yeah. Oh, fuck, Adney, come for me.”</p><p>Ann’s teeth dug into her shoulder as her body seized, a series of shudders rolling through her. With gentle words and even gentler strokes, Anne coaxed wave after wave from her trembling body.</p><p>“I love you, Ann Walker. God, you’re beautiful.”</p><p>“Pony,” her wife sighed as she collapsed back into the sheets; their lips met for a moment. “Oh, my darling.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Anne rolled off the side of the bed. </p><p>“Yes,” Ann sighed, following her into the bathroom. “Gosh, what a day.”</p><p>“What a weekend,” Anne agreed. “I’m sorry, Ann, I - I wasn’t thinking. Yesterday, when I -”</p><p>“I know, I know,” she soothed. “Stop apologizing for it. The first dozen times were enough.”</p><p>“I feel like an ass.”</p><p>“Rightfully so,” Ann teased, “but you do a better job to make up for it by just being better. Like how you were all day today. How you usually are.”</p><p>“Okay,” she said, trying to find the right words. “Sometimes, Adney, I - I mean I've never done this, and neither have you, and I just - I get all screwed up.”</p><p>“I know, darling. I do, too.”</p><p>“I meant what I said. When we got to the shelter. I want to be everything to you, and I know that’s not right. I have parts of my life that are my own, and you should too. We should find you some stuff to - something that’s just yours.You have your work and your art and the chaumière and your volunteering. And Tiny.”</p><p>“Exactly,” Ann nodded. “And you know how much I had before we got together? Just my art. You’ve made all of this possible, Pony. You did that for me. Stop beating yourself up.”</p><p>Anne smiled, dipped her head to kiss her wife, then smacked her behind playfully; what a wise, generous person, she thought as they climbed into bed. She was still smiling the next morning, when she woke with Ann’s head on her shoulder and Tiny’s small head nudging her hand. She scratched the dog’s head affectionately.</p><p>“Come on then, let’s wake up Mama.”</p><p>As if on cue, Tiny leapt onto the bed, burying her nose in the crook of Ann’s neck. Ann whined.</p><p>“Pony.”</p><p>“Nope,” Anne said as she pulled on her walking clothes. “That’s your dog, Miss Walker. Breakfast time.”</p><p>“It’s the middle of the night.”</p><p>“Five o’clock, my love.”</p><p>Groaning, Ann shuffled to the closet for a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, and the three of them trotted downstairs. They fed Tiny and Argus while the coffee brewed, Ann’s narrow arms around her wife’s waist. She held her phone near Anne’s hip, scrolling slowly. Two travel mugs were filled, and the foursome strode out into the dark morning.</p><p>“This will be nice,” Anne said, “having you with me for my walks.”</p><p>“I may have made a mistake,” Ann groaned.</p><p>“Ah, not so easy, is it now?”</p><p>“I didn’t think about this part.”</p><p>“Having a dog is a lot of work,” Anne nodded. “Life-changing.”</p><p>For a few minutes they walked in silence; Ann had her hands deep in her pockets, Tiny’s lead looped through her arm. Argus could be trusted to walk with them, occasionally trotting off to investigate something then coming back. Perhaps one day Tiny could do the same.</p><p>“They’re cute, aren’t they?” Ann piped up. “Fat and skinny. Tall and short.”</p><p>“They are.”</p><p>“I’m going to get into some classes.”</p><p>“What kind of classes?”</p><p>“Obedience classes. Me and Tiny.”</p><p>“I think that’s a lovely idea, Adney.”</p><p>“I looked at some while the dogs were eating. There’s one starting today.”</p><p>“Look at you,” Anne said enthusiastically, “you’re really doing this.”</p><p>“I am,” Ann said resolutely. “I’m not going to mess this up or give up. I’ll get up with you. Don’t let me sleep in, okay? I’m serious about this.”</p><p>“Ann Walker!” She  grinned, only slightly surprised. “I am so impressed with you.”</p><p>“When I set my mind to something,” Ann nodded sharply, “I mean to do it.”</p><p>“I’m so proud to be your wife.”</p><p>Ann kissed her quickly on the cheek.</p><p>“Besides,” she continued, “I don’t think Tiny will need too much obedience. She doesn’t jump or bite and she’s already leash-trained. It’s more about us bonding. That’s what the website said. The two of us building trust.”</p><p>“You’re amazing,” Anne said sincerely. “You’re going to be an amazing mum.”</p><p>“Dog mum,” Ann corrected.</p><p>“All kinds of mum,” Anne wrapped her arm around her wife’s narrow waist. </p><p>When they got back, Ann fell into bed, curling up with Tiny while Anne showered. When she emerged, wearing her undershirt and shorts and toweling her wet hair, both the wife and the dog were snoring. She slipped into bed facing her wife, behind Tiny; she smiled softly and traced a hand over Ann’s cheek. </p><p>“Hi, Pony.”</p><p>“Hi there.”</p><p>“I was thinking about something, while you were showering.”</p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>“You and Tiny are a lot alike.”</p><p>“What?” Anne laughed. </p><p>“Hear me out!” Ann chuckled. “So there’s the all black. For starters.”</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>“That’s obvious.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“But then,” Ann scratched the dog’s white belly, “when you trust somebody, you show your little white belly, the vulnerable side of you.” Ann traced over the green mark peeking through the fur. “The side that shows where you’ve been hurt.” </p><p>“I haven’t been spayed, Ann, Good Lord.”</p><p>“No,” Ann drawled, “ but this mark means more than that. Yes, she’s been spayed, but she’s also been abandoned. Left behind. Undervalued.” Anne chewed her bottom lip, avoiding Ann’s careful gaze. “And the good thing is,” she caught Anne’s chin, forcing her to look into those penetrating blue eyes, “you let me see your belly and your pain. Sometimes you don’t want to, but it’s always better when you do, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Yes,” Anne managed, swallowing dryly.</p><p>“Isn’t it?” Ann cooed to the dog, rubbing her soft white fur. “Can’t get a belly scratch without being vulnerable. And you know what’s crazy? Tiny almost immediately showed me her belly. You did too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>Of course, I’ve never adopted a dog in England, but their experience is almost exactly how it was when I adopted my own version of Tiny about 3 years ago (who is now at a healthy weight but still pauses midway on the stairs). I based Tiny on my little pup, because of the connection I could make toward the end of the chapter. Plus, she’s the best and she’s helped me write this whole story!</p><p>The only example I could find of Ann’s IRL dog Tiny was “Mrs. Ann Walker looked pale but seemed glad to see us. Sat 1/2 hour with her. (A- had Tiny with her. 1st time shewing the dog at Cliffhill)” August 17, 1837. </p><p>Thank you thank you thank you for your comments, as always! I cannot tell you how much I appreciate them and what a big difference it makes to have your thoughts and your support as I’m writing. Writing is lonely most of the time, but this community is so so vital and keeps me going. Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. A Lifetime in a Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Ann Walker is twelve, she sees Anne Lister for the first time. She doesn’t know it, but the loud, slender, gesticulating man in black is going to be her wife one day. The sight of this strange figure stops her dead in her tracks, right there on the sidewalk; there’s something about this person, who is arguing passionately with a short brunette. Ann can’t figure it out. Is is the shaggy hair or the necktie or the sweeping expanse of those long arms? Her hand itches for a pencil, but Elizabeth tugs her along back home.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t see Anne again until she’s fourteen; this time she asks Harriet who the strange woman in black is. Anne is more visibly feminine this time, with her longer hair and thin vest and low-slung jeans; it’s 2004, and Anne dresses like it. Ann’s parents still dictate her wardrobe more or less, so she’s stuck in boat shoes and capri pants, shift dresses and collared shirts. The Walkers cling to the preppy lifestyle and pastel colors. Anne Lister seems impossibly dangerous in her alternative clothes and shades of black.</p><p>“Who’s that?” She nudges Harriet when Anne stumbles out of a bookshop in town.</p><p>“Anne Lister,” Harriet says with her nose upturned. “Mother says she’s a - well, that I shouldn’t speak to her.”</p><p>“Have you?” Ann breathes, awestruck as Anne strides across the street to a battered-looking Jeep. “Spoken to her?”</p><p>“Once,” Harriet shrugs, “she kept going on and on about biology and brain chemistry and,” she shivered a bit, “it was all so boring.”</p><p>Ann feels certain this strange woman would never bore her. For the first time, she feels a stirring in her chest, like what Elizabeth described after her date with that boy from school. Like all she wants to do is be around Anne Lister. What she wouldn’t give to hear her voice…</p><p> </p><p>When she’s fifteen, Ann sees Mariana Lawton for the first time. The Rawsons are having a party, and Ann gets to go. A real grown-up party - Ann is thrilled and terrified. She hides out with Catherine for a little while, sneaking little cups of wine and gossiping in the corner. Mariana Lawton is about Ann’s height, perhaps a bit taller, certainly curvier. Catherine elbows Ann’s side, nodding to Mariana.</p><p>“She came over to the house the other day, and I swear my dad was going to freak out. She’s, like, so rude. She kept making these little comments about the food and the house. I wanted to be like, ‘bitch! Then leave!’”</p><p>“Yeah, she seems kind of snotty,” Ann agrees. </p><p>She opens her mouth to say more, but her throat runs dry. For Mariana Lawton is sauntering over to Anne Lister, whispering in her ear, then walking slowly toward the hall. Catherine starts going on about one of their teachers, but Ann only has eyes for the striking figure in black across the room. Anne slowly extricates herself from the conversation she’s in, stalking across the room like a panther. She disappears down the hall as well. Where are they headed? Ann makes an excuse to Catherine and rushes after them. The bathroom door swings closed. Ann knows she shouldn’t, but before she can stop herself, she’s pressed her ear to it. </p><p>“Naughty girl,” a low voice purrs, “with Charles in the next room.”</p><p>“Come on, Fred.” Is that a belt buckle? Ann can’t hear enough. “Doesn’t it make you hot?”</p><p>And then there’s nothing. Just a bit of grunting and rustling. Ann presses her ear harder into the wood. What the hell is going - Oh. There it is. Mariana moans; it’s this low and loud and filthy sound. Ann feels the way she did when she and Harriet accidentally found that dirty movie on the really high channel. A bit sick, a bit intrigued, overwhelmingly ashamed. Ann turns away from the door, rushing back to the comfort of Catherine, her family, the world she knows.</p><p>The next day, Anne calls for tea at Crow Nest. Usually, Ann hides away when her mother has guests, but today she asks to be included. Mother is surprised, but she smiles warmly and pats the sofa next to her. Ann sits down, eyes wide as she tries to take in every inch of Anne Lister spread across the chair opposite her. She’s wearing a suit, a men’s suit, in the darkest black Ann had ever seen. Even her shirt is black, accented by a dark grey tie. Anne catches her staring and winks, which flusters Ann so much she has to look at the ground. Oh, but Anne’s shoes are even worse - shiny and polished. Her socks peek out, and they’re green. Who <i>is</i> this person? </p><p>It’s that moment that Ann falls in love with Anne Lister. The infatuation that would last fourteen years, until Anne would show up at her door in the midst of a pandemic. She understands now, having overheard what she did in the bathroom, that Anne Lister is, in fact, <i>like that</i>. That’s how Ann’s mother always refers to homosexuality. Ann hasn’t met a gay person, not that she’s aware of, and here is one sitting right in front of her. Ann can’t quite figure out why that thrills her so much. </p><p> </p><p>Ann spends the next three years fantasizing about Anne Lister, walking past Shibden, and avoiding boys. She wouldn’t say she’s a lesbian, of course not, but all the boys she knows are so dull. Boring and childish and ugly. She’d rather focus on her art - that’s what she tells everyone. Deep down, sometimes she wonders. She toys with the word, tests it out on her tongue - silently, of course - but she never writes it down. </p><p>Her diaries are full of oblique references: “saw A.L. in town carrying a bunch of books. Her arms must be so strong. Could I be any more …” Things like “Catherine said she saw her today. Wonder why I never get to bump into her. Wonder why I care so much. Well, I think we both know.” Or even: “let Jimmy Covington kiss me on the mouth today - my first kiss. Should be more excited, shouldn’t I? It was just kind of wet and hard and I didn’t really know what to do. Opened my eyes and felt disappointed that he wasn’t…My lips felt swollen when I got home.”</p><p> </p><p>Ann’s father dies first. Heart attack, as it so often goes. He lingers, in hospital, but he never wakes up. The only thing keeping Ann from losing herself is her mother. It’s January, which Ann never liked much anyway, and she’s finishing up her final year at school. She’s nervous to go to uni, but she’s excited too. Mother is ecstatic. Elizabeth is encouraging from her flat in town, but it’s not the same. Sam is off, basic training; he always wanted to be a soldier. Father is - <i>was</i> so proud of that. For fourteen days, Ann and her mother rely on each other. Ann vows to be strong for her, for the memory of her father. And then, one afternoon, Ann is pulled from school early. Mother Rawson, in her silver Mercedes, telling her gently that her mother is gone too. </p><p>Ann loses it. She loses her composure and her control; she weeps and shakes in Mother Rawson’s arms, while a silent chauffeur drives them to Crow Nest. Elizabeth comes to stay with her; Sam still can’t get away. It’s a daze - the wake, the funeral, the burial. The last months of school. Ann stops keeping a diary. </p><p> </p><p>When she turns eighteen that May, Elizabeth sits her down. </p><p>“You’re going to university.”</p><p>“I’m not,” Ann says mechanically; they’ve had this argument.</p><p>“Yes, you bloody well are.” Elizabeth’s angry today, which frightens and excites Ann in equal measure. At least it’s different. “Mother and Father wanted you to go, and you’ve gotten in, and - what the hell else are you going to do? You’re going.”</p><p>“I don’t want to.”</p><p>“Doesn’t matter, Ann! I don’t want to babysit you for the rest of my life, and you can’t get a proper job without going to university. You’re going, and that’s final.”</p><p>“I can’t.”</p><p>“You - what?” Elizabeth’s tone changes; her concerned face appears as she crouches next to Ann on the window seat in the library. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“I can’t go. I don’t know how I - I’m not like you, Liz. You or Sam or - I can’t be on my own. I’m afraid. I won’t know anyone.”</p><p>“Oh, Annie,” Elizabeth coos, “everyone is afraid when they first go off. It’s perfectly natural. You’ll make friends, and you’ll learn so much. It’s going to be lovely.”</p><p>From then on, Elizabeth treats Ann’s fears like growing pains - natural and soon forgotten. Ann doesn’t dare tell her about the voices. </p><p> </p><p>Her time at uni is a blur - laughing strangers and leering professors and microwave dinners. The only positive to come out of it is her relationship with therapy. She follows a woman she thinks to be Anne Lister down a corridor and into a building she’s never entered before. It turns out to be Student Health Services, and Ann agrees to a consultation, unable to explain her reason for being there without saying “I thought that man was my neighbor whom I’m in love with.” </p><p>It’s the best thing she’s ever done. By the end of the thirty minutes, she’s crying, and she’s never felt better. Anne Lister, in a roundabout sort of way, did that for her. Ann never skips an appointment; she feels a connection to Anne when she’s in therapy. This is something Anne would do, she tells herself; grown-ups take care of themselves like this. </p><p>She still drops out of uni. She falls too far behind in her classes, and one professor gently suggests she cut her losses. There’s a rush of relief when she realizes this is an option. She’s back at Crow Nest the next week. </p><p> </p><p>When she’s nineteen, she runs into Anne on that moor. Well, she runs <i>after</i> Anne on that moor. Her birthday was last month, and she feels decidedly more adult. She lives in Crow Nest, alone with the staff, and she paints and goes to therapy and tries to figure out what the hell to do with her life. She spends her days studying art and artists, and her nights stalking Anne Lister online. And then she presents herself like this? Striding across the moor like she owns it. Long legs in those dark jeans. Short, black leather boots. A black t-shirt showcasing her strong arms. Obviously, Ann has to run after her. </p><p>She calls for her as she runs, but Anne doesn’t seem to hear her. Her heart hammers in her chest. She can’t get enough air. She’s never been particularly athletic, but this is the exhilarating kind of breathlessness. Not like having a panic attack. This feels like flying. Finally, finally, she catches up to her. Anne Lister turns, and Ann can’t breathe. Again. It’s even better.</p><p>Except then she worries she might puke.</p><p>She leans forward, hands on her knees, panting. Her feet kill - why did she choose these loafers this morning? Her dress flaps around her legs, but she doesn’t mind. She’s staring at Anne’s scuffed boots, which are inexplicably exciting. Passively, Ann wonders if this will be bad for her back, which has been giving her more and more trouble. </p><p>“Miss Walker,” Anne’s low voice purrs, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”</p><p>Ann can barely keep up with the conversation, narrowly avoiding telling this incredible woman that she’s a miserable failure and a drop-out. Lies are allowed, in the name of love, right? No one could fault her for that. </p><p>When Anne offers to call on her for a walk, Ann nearly combusts on the spot. The promise of seeing Anne again in the future propels her all the way home; her soft, kind voice calling Ann “a beautiful girl” echoes in her ears for days. Though Anne never comes for the walk, Ann doesn’t blame her. She’s busy, isn’t she? How could she take the time to see Ann? If anything, the disappointment makes Ann’s heart grow fonder. It’s her happy little secret, this conversation with Anne; she doesn’t tell her friends or her family, only her therapist, who has been gently leading her toward a major revelation. </p><p> </p><p>Ann has to wait over a year to see Anne again, this time by chance, on the street. Anne has an armful of books, but she takes a moment to smile at Ann.</p><p>“How are you, Miss Walker?”</p><p>“I’m good,” Ann breathes. “How - how are you?”</p><p>“Excellent,” Anne grins. “Making plans to go abroad again. Nothing better.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Some day, Miss Walker,” Anne leans in, “perhaps I shall take you aboard.”</p><p>“Really?” Ann says again, her entire body vibrating with being so close to Anne Fucking Lister. Anne catches her chin between her thumb and forefinger as if assessing her. </p><p>“You could use a bit of corrupting.”</p><p>With a wink and a flourish, she’s gone. Ann races all the way home, climbs into bed, and masturbates for the first time in her life. Anne’s voice, her warm hand on her face, the thought of being abroad with Anne Lister, “corrupting” - whatever that meant. Her hand is clumsy between her legs, but she quickly finds her clit and a rhythm that works for her. Anne’s voice reverberates in her ears; her handsome face looms in her mind. The feeling - her first orgasm - it’s incredible and strange and addictive. And it’s all thanks to Anne Lister. </p><p>From then on, she starts to accept who she is. She doesn’t say it out loud, but she knows the truth. She’s <i>like that</i>, as her mother would say. She spends a year working through that emotion and fear, worrying over the tribe, what her parents would’ve thought, how in the world she’ll find happiness when her heart belongs to someone so impossibly out of her league.</p><p> </p><p>And then, the fall after she turns twenty-one, her brother dies. Abroad, far from home, drowned. Ann is plagued by nightmares and panic attacks, and she loses all the self-confidence she’d built up since that conversation with Anne on the street. Her therapist calls it agoraphobia. The tribe calls it immaturity, weakness, the spoiled attitude of a girl who never finishes anything. Ann calls it a pretty good reason to stay in bed. She refuses all visitors, telling James the only person allowed to cross that threshold is Anne Lister; any time, day or night she tells him; Anne Lister is always welcome. </p><p>Not that she comes. She doesn’t. Online, Ann catches blurry photos and shaky videos of Anne in France, in her classroom at the university, in the fields at Shibden. The sight of her becomes a bitter reminder of the woman Ann could’ve been. The person she was for a brief time. A handful of months, and Ann almost managed it. Of course, in the end, she failed. </p><p>The days pass in the same way, though she never sets a routine. Mostly, she stays in bed. She meets with her therapist infrequently. She paints. Occasionally, Ann is struck by a surge of confidence and adrenaline, and she studies and reads and paints with fervor. In those brief spurts, she manages to maintain her friendship with Catherine and feign normalcy to Elizabeth. Her sister elopes around this time, and Ann is secretly grateful. She can’t imagine presenting herself in front of the tribe for a wedding. Eliza Priestly, Aunt Ann, and Mother Rawson appear intermittently to question and judge her. Ann retracts further into herself, only venturing out sporadically for therapy and church. </p><p> </p><p>She loses her twenty-fifth year to madness and Thomas Ainsworth. </p><p> </p><p>It’s the sight of Anne Lister at a Christmas party when she’s twenty-six that lifts the fog. Not entirely, but some. Anne is alone, chatting amiably to some distant relation of Ann’s. Mother Rawson’s house is full of people and fir trees and eggnog. Catherine drops down beside her on the couch. </p><p>“How are you, Annie?” </p><p>“Fine, how are you?”</p><p>“Don’t even try that,” Catherine says. “How are you actually?”</p><p>“Tired,” Ann shakes her head. “I’m always so tired. Mother Rawson said I had to come tonight, so,” she shrugs. “I’m going to Elizabeth’s tomorrow.”</p><p>“That’ll be fun, won’t it?”</p><p>“I guess.”</p><p>Mother Rawson crooks a single finger, and Catherine rises. </p><p>“Better go feed the beast,” Catherine jokes. “Will you be okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, go on.”</p><p>Ann sits by herself for a few minutes, until Anne’s kind face appears next to her. A long arm drapes across the back of the sofa, not touching Ann, but it makes her feel safer. Protected. Somehow. Anne crosses her legs at the knee, leaning in to speak softly to her. </p><p>“These things are terribly dull, aren’t they?”</p><p>“Are they?” Ann can’t think of anything better to say.</p><p>“Usually, yes,” Anne smiles, “but it always helps to have a pretty girl in the room.”</p><p>“Too bad there aren’t any here,” Ann quips, trying to be funny.</p><p>“Don’t say that,” Anne says seriously. “You’re very pretty. Do you know that?”</p><p>“Oh, I -”</p><p>“You are, Ann Walker. You’re very pretty.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Ann’s face is on fire; she shakes her head again. “I - I - uh -”</p><p>“You know, I was just speaking to your cousin Christopher, and…”</p><p>Ann loses herself in Anne’s soft, low voice. The expressions in her long fingers. The way she taps her foot in the air as she’s speaking. The safety that Ann feels by her side. All too soon, someone calls Anne’s name, and she pulls away.</p><p>“Lovely speaking to you, Ann Walker. I - I hope I don’t overstep the mark in saying this, but - you seem to be a very strong young woman. You’ve been through a lot, and I - I’m impressed with how gracious and poised you always seem to be. Take care of yourself.”</p><p>With that, she’s gone. Ann can’t believe it. She’s positively beaming, glowing in the wake of Anne’s attention. Then Eliza Priestly appears.</p><p>“What did she say to you?”</p><p>“What?” Ann turns to the older woman in confusion. </p><p>“Anne Lister,” Eliza hisses. “What filthy thing did she tell you?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Ann protests.</p><p>“You stay away from her, Ann. Do you hear me? She’s trouble.”</p><p>Though she can’t yet, Ann wants to tell Eliza off. Stand up for Anne. Defend the way that Anne makes her feel. Even as Eliza derides Anne, the warmth of their interaction remains. </p><p> </p><p>From then on, Ann focuses on her inner strength. She reminds herself of Anne’s words. She recommits to therapy. She paints. It’s not a complete transformation, but she gets a portion of her life back. She even rides again, just a bit around the estate. Her back still troubles her, and the tribe still treats her like a pariah, an invalid, and a fool. She tries not to let it bother her. In her mind, Ann can use that word, the dreaded l-word. She knows, in her heart, the truth about who she is and what she wants. </p><p>It’s lonely, though, in the big house. She longs for the day when Anne will call on her, but she hears more and more about Anne traveling. The years pass, and Ann starts to hear the name “Vere Hobart” associated with Anne’s. Ann wonders if that’s her girlfriend, if she’s still seeing Mariana Lawton, if Ann could ever have a shot with her. In her mind, Ann pictures Anne chatting with her in the sitting room, laughing with her in the library, making love to her in bed. By the time she’s twenty-eight, Ann pretty much can’t go to sleep without touching herself, almost always with Anne Lister’s handsome face behind her eyelids. </p><p> </p><p>Then, there’s that magical day in late November with Aunt Ann. The car breaks down. They’re outside of Shibden. Perhaps God is finally answering her prayers. A perfectly orchestrated and innocent encounter with Anne Lister in the mysterious fortress of Shibden Hall. </p><p>But she isn’t home, Ann learns from Anne’s sister, Marian. She’s returning from traveling with Vere Hobart. Captain Lister insinuates they’ve broken up. Ann has to remind her heart to stop soaring. The Listers are an interesting family, friendly enough, Ann thinks, but her aunt disagrees as soon as they leave.</p><p>“Strange,” Aunt Ann pronounces. “All of them. Eccentric and odd.” </p><p>“I don’t know,” Ann tries.</p><p>“No, Ann, you don’t know,” Aunt Ann says firmly. “Don’t mess about with those people, do you understand me? They are bizarre and below us. Do not get any ideas in your head.”</p><p>Comments like that make Ann wonder if the tribe could sense the difference in her, the secret she keeps so close to her chest. She wonders if she can confide in her aunt, if she would understand. But then Aunt Ann starts to rant in earnest, and Ann settles back into the upholstery. Of course she can’t. She can never tell anyone, she realizes. Anne Lister would understand. Perhaps when she’s back in town, they could see each other again. </p><p> </p><p>Then the pandemic happens, and Ann’s plans are thwarted. She can hardly call on Shibden unannounced in the best of times - their stand-offishness for one, her own shyness and anxiety for another. Now she’s stuck in her house alone, which, to be honest, isn’t so different from her everyday life. </p><p>What is different, however, is James knocking on her door in the early morning one day in March. </p><p>“What?” She groans, rubbing sleep from her eyes. James never wakes her up; they have a very polite, symbiotic relationship. Why would he disturb her like this? </p><p>“Dr. Lister at the door for you, ma’am.”</p><p>“What!” Ann sits straight up.</p><p>“In the living room, actually, ma’am. I showed her in, because, well, you’d said that if she ever called -”</p><p>“Yes, James, thank you!” She calls, fumbling around for her clothes. “Thank you thank you thank you!”</p><p>That day, the day Anne Lister finally calls on her, is the most important. The rest of it was just a prelude. A warm-up. She’s twenty-nine years old, and she’s been waiting on this moment for fourteen - no, for seventeen years. Her entire life, really. It felt like an eternity when she was waiting, but now, presented with the reality, Ann can’t believe how quickly the day came. The love of her life spinning about to smile at her in the gentle morning sun. Eternity stretches before them. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“What are you thinking about?” Anne asks as they lie in bed one night, their slick bodies pressed together, Tiny’s snores underscoring their conversation. </p><p>“Every time that I’ve made a significant change in my life, it’s been because of you. I got into therapy, because I thought I saw you going into this building and - and then after my parents died and after Ainsworth, I - it was always you. Do you know that? You always saved me.”</p><p>“It’s a lovely sentiment,” Anne says gently, her fingertips brushing along Ann’s side, her heartbeat thumping under Ann’s ear, “but I don’t want that credit.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“All of that, darling, all of those things that you did? That was you. You did that. I didn’t do a damn thing but flirt with a pretty girl every few years before I stumbled off to make my own mess. It’s all you, Adney.” Anne kisses the top of her head. “You saved yourself.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>So I wrote this whole bit in about 2-2.5 hours, and I know it’s a bit different, but I think it’s good. The tone and the tense are meant to make it feel like one long day, right? Like a rush of events that all lead up to the inevitable, which, I think, in retrospect, their life seems to be.</p><p>Honestly, I also needed a clearer chronology of Ann’s life for myself as much as anything. I’ve taken a few liberties with Ann’s real life (based on her Wikipedia), notably that her parents died when she was 20 (6 months apart, rather than 2 weeks) and that her brother died when she was 27. I never knew that, that he’d died just two years before Anne started courting her. If anyone has resources on Ann Walker’s life, I’d love to have more information!</p><p>It was also important to me to show that Ann feels this lifelong connection to Anne, but that she is her own person with her own strength. She attributes a lot of it to Anne, but it’s her. In my mind, Anne’s presence makes her feel like more is possible, like she can do more - “when I’m with you, I feel I could take on the world.”</p><p>I did try to keep with the moments I’d introduced with this story, but I’m nervous I might have some inconsistencies. Please forgive. I forget. </p><p>Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Domestic Life Was Never Quite My Style</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is just... incredibly dirty</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hi, Pony,” her wife’s sweet voice crooned through the phone. “How are your classes so far?”</p><p>“Oh, good,” Anne answered, dropping down into her office chair. “The usual first day stuff.”</p><p>“How long before your next one?”</p><p>“Two hours,” she groaned, loosening her tie. “I’m having office hours at one.”</p><p>“So you have some time,” Ann purred.</p><p>“And what if I do?”</p><p>“Well, I’m just sitting here, missing you.”</p><p>“Where’s that dog? I thought she was supposed to keep you company.”</p><p>“She’s sleeping,” Ann whined. “We were in class all morning.”</p><p>“Uh-huh.” Anne got up to lock her office door. “So you call me up while I’m at work just to tell me about it?”</p><p>“I mean, I <i>can</i>,” she drawled, “or I can tell you what I’m doing right now.”</p><p>“And what’s that?”</p><p>“Sitting on your side of the bed and trying really hard not to touch myself.”</p><p>“Is that right?” Anne’s mouth was suddenly so dry. </p><p>“Even your scent, Pony, Good Lord. I came up here to take a shower, but I wonder - I wonder if there’s something I want to do first.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?”</p><p>“I might - uh.” Anne could practically hear the blush on her wife’s cheeks. “I might need to touch myself. Because I miss you.”</p><p>“Really?” Anne breathed, flicking open her own trousers.</p><p>“Yeah, I -” Ann sounded breathless. “I think I will.”</p><p>“What are you wearing?”</p><p>“Hold on.”</p><p>Anne heard the phone drop to the bed, some static and some rustling, then Ann’s quick breath over the line.</p><p>“How about nothing?”</p><p>“Oh, fuck, Adney.” Anne sank lower in her chair, closing her eyes as she pictured her wife: naked, in bed, alone. “What are you doing?”</p><p>“Tell me what to do.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Anne grinned to herself, a thousand filthy scenarios running through her mind. Why hadn’t they done this sooner? She spread her feet far apart, pulled her trousers open, slipped her hand inside, resting it gently on her thigh. </p><p>“Touch your breasts.” Ann’s soft hiss sent a wave of arousal straight to Anne’s core. “Your - hold on, Ann?” Anne switched from a sultry purr to her normal speaking voice. “Tell me if something I’m saying doesn’t work for you, okay? Like, if you’d rather I use a different word or focus on something else.”</p><p>“Jeez, Pony, okay.” Ann sounded annoyed. “Can we get on with it?”</p><p>“Boundaries are important,” Anne chuckled. “Alright, so,” she closed her eyes, picturing Ann in her mind, “roll your breasts in your hands. You know how I do it? Twist your nipples, just a little bit, with your thumbs.”</p><p>“Yes, Pony,” Ann sighed.</p><p>“Feels good?”</p><p>“Yes. What - uh, what are you doing? Are you going to - you know?”</p><p>“I’m not doing anything yet, baby. If I were there, oh, the things I would do to you.”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“Kiss your neck.” Ann moaned softly. “Bite your collar bone. Drag my tongue over your breasts. Mark you as mine.”</p><p>“Anne.”</p><p>“Are you wet, Adney? I haven’t even touched myself, and I know I am.”</p><p>“Oh, fuck.”</p><p>“Tell me how wet you are, Adney.”</p><p>“Um, I’m - oh, Anne, I’m wet. I’m - fuck, I need you.”</p><p>“What are you doing now?”</p><p>“Touching myself.”</p><p>“Where, Ann?” </p><p>“My clit,” Ann breathed. “I’m - I’m circling my clit. Fuck - Anne - feels so good.”</p><p>“I wish I could see you, Adney. I wish I were there. I wish that were my hand between your legs.”</p><p>Ann moaned; even over the phone, Anne could tell she was biting her lip, trying to be quiet. </p><p>“I wish I were there to make you scream. To fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked.”</p><p>For a few moments, Ann’s only response was heavy breathing and soft hums. Anne slipped her hand into her shorts, grinding gently against her clit. She could just imagine Ann right now - in their bed, one hand on her breast, the other between her legs. She felt a jolt in her center at the mere thought. She decided to take a risk.</p><p>“Adney.”</p><p>Ann made a soft sort of sound, what Anne assumed to be her approximation of an answer.</p><p>“Can you - would you take a picture? Of yourself?”</p><p>“What?” Ann’s voice was breathy, far away. Perhaps Anne had waited too long. </p><p>“Never mind. Uh, tell me, tell me what you’re thinking about.”</p><p>“I’m thinking about that time at Crow Nest. When you fucked me up against the front door. Do you remember?”</p><p>“Yes,” Anne groaned. “Oh, fuck, yes, I do.”</p><p>“You were so hot that day. Fuck, Pony.”</p><p>“Are you inside?”</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“Are you,” Anne panted, “inside? Yourself?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Do it. If you - if you want.”</p><p>Anne heard a sharp inhalation, then a low sigh of relief; her hand sped up between her legs. </p><p>“Oh, fuck, Pony, this is hard.”</p><p>“What?” Anne laughed breathlessly.</p><p>“Getting - uh, doing - fuck, doing both.”</p><p>“Put the phone down, baby.” Anne heard rustling. “Use one hand to fuck yourself.” Ann keened. “Use the other on your clit.”</p><p>“Oh, Pony,” Ann moaned. </p><p>“Better?” Anne couldn’t help grinning smugly as Ann attempted to answer in a breathless, high-pitched sound. “Imagine I’m with you, Adney. That’s my hand between your legs. That’s me making you come.”</p><p>“Pony,” she whined, tight and strained; Anne could tell she was close.</p><p>“Faster, baby. Can you do that? Faster and harder. You’re so close, Adney. Come for me.”</p><p>A choked moan reached Anne’s ears, and she knew her wife was shuddering in their bed. Her own hand sped up, seemingly of its own volition. Warmth radiated from her core, up her spine, into the tense muscles of her thighs; she was so, so close. </p><p>“Did you come, Pony?”</p><p>“Not yet.”</p><p>“Can I send you a picture?”</p><p>“What?” Anne froze.</p><p>“You asked for one, but I wasn’t - I wasn’t really listening,” Ann giggled softly. “Do you want one now?”</p><p>“Yes, Ann, absolutely.”</p><p>“Hold on.” </p><p>Anne stroked her clit slowly, keeping the waves at bay while Ann shuffled around on the other end of the line. </p><p>“There it goes,” Ann said happily.</p><p>She nearly dropped the phone flipping it away from her ear so quickly; with a trembling hand, she managed to pull up her text conversation with Ann. Then she actually did drop the phone. In the photo, Ann’s eyes were dark, her pupils blown wide and her lips parted, with her flushed chest stretching below; her nipples were straining, one hand curled around her breast. </p><p>“Oh, fuck,” she breathed, unsure if Ann could hear her with the phone so far away. </p><p>It didn’t matter. With her eyes glued to the photo and a few rushed strokes, Anne seized in her desk chair, a silent cry dying on her lips. For a moment she just cupped her center, breathing heavily and bringing the phone back to her ear. </p><p>“You’re going to kill me, Ann Walker.”</p><p>“Did you like it?” Ann was almost certainly smiling shyly; the thought alone made Anne’s chest swell.</p><p>“Like it? It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.”</p><p>“Oh, good,” Ann said happily. “That was fun.”</p><p>“It was,” Anne agreed, slipping her hand out of her shorts. “You’re naughty. Calling me at work.”</p><p>“We should do it more often.”</p><p>“Absolutely.”</p><p>Anne heard her wife puttering around the bathroom and turning on the shower; she leaned back in her office chair, closing her eyes and holding her wet hand in the air. Wanking in one’s office was one thing, but touching one’s pens and papers afterward? Not exactly hygienic.</p><p>“You would be so proud of Tiny,” Ann gushed. “She is, like, the best dog in her class.”</p><p>“Is she?” </p><p>“Oh, yes. The trainer said she’s really smart.”</p><p>“Gets it from her mother,” Anne said easily. </p><p>“Flatterer.” </p><p>“I was talking about me,” she joked back.</p><p>“Pony!” Ann giggled, exasperated. “I’m going out to the studio this afternoon with her, okay? Come see me after class.”</p><p>“Oh, am I in trouble, Mrs. Lister?”</p><p>“Maybe,” she answered saucily. “Perhaps you need some - some - oh, Pony, I don’t know. What’s a teacher word?”</p><p>“Forget it,” Anne laughed. “I’ll be home around five.”</p><p>“Great. Love you.”</p><p>“Love <i>you</i>.”</p><p>Trotting down the hall to wash her hands, Anne marveled at the levels to their relationship. Dirty words over the phone, naughty pictures, then chatting casually about their dog’s obedience school. She used to worry that she couldn’t handle domestic life, that she’d grow restless in the mediocre and banal, but, in fact, she adored it. Ann excited her physically, of course, but she was just as excited to hear about her painting or her work or her argument with Catherine. Well, maybe not <i>just</i> as excited. But nearly. </p><p>Ann’s breathy voice and that devilish picture haunted Anne for the rest of the afternoon. She could barely focus on her classes, too busy was she counting down the moments until she could make proper love to her wife in the chaumière. The Jeep skidded to a stop, and she was out like a shot, striding purposefully across the estate to that little clearing. </p><p>Inside, she found Ann with a paintbrush in hand, streaks of blue and yellow on her cheeks, wearing Anne’s old sweatshirt and a pair of threadbare boxers. Her jeans were folded neatly over the drafting table. Tiny chewed on a toy in the corner. Tearing off her hat and gloves, Anne crossed the room in just two strides. Ann’s face lit up at the sight of her, holding her arms out as they crashed together. </p><p>“I’m covered in paint,” Ann giggled as Anne kissed all over her face. </p><p>“I don’t care.”</p><p>“Take off your coat,” she urged, pushing the heavy wool from Anne’s shoulders. It pooled at their feet. “You’re in a hurry.”</p><p>“That bloody picture,” Anne growled. “And now you’re not even wearing trousers?” </p><p>“Didn’t want to get paint on them,” Ann shrugged.</p><p>“But <i>my</i> clothes? Adney.”</p><p>They tumbled to the floor, Anne landing on her back with her wife above her. She brought their lips together for a series of teasing kisses as she trailed her hands down Ann’s back and up under her sweatshirt. What a tremendous relief, she thought, coming home like this to the woman she loved. What a huge, fucking relief. </p><p>“Pony,” Ann drawled in her sing-songy way, loosening Anne’s tie around her neck. “There’s a perfectly good bed in the next room.”</p><p>“That’s no fun,” Anne teased, rolling Ann gently onto her back, Anne’s discarded coat below her. “Unless your back is -”</p><p>“It’s fine.” </p><p>Ann tilted her chin, tangling her fingers in Anne’s hair as their lips met. From this angle, Anne could better explore her wife’s creamy skin. She slipped under her sweatshirt and traced her fingers over Ann’s stomach and ribs, hissing softly as she finally reached her breasts.</p><p>“You know,” Anne breathed in her ear, “I’ve been thinking about this all day long.”</p><p>“Have you?” Ann sighed, her eyes drifting closed and her back arching almost imperceptibly into Anne’s hand. </p><p>“You make me crazy, Adney.” Anne rolled her hips into Ann’s. “That fucking picture? Good Lord.”</p><p>“You should send me one,” Ann murmured.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Sometime, when you’re in your office, and you’re thinking about me,” she scratched her fingers lightly against Anne’s scalp, “send me a picture.”</p><p>“I’d be fully clothed,” Anne said as she sat back between her wife’s legs, a bit confused. </p><p>“That’s hot,” Ann smiled, opening her eyes and toying with the front of Anne’s shirt. “Hand down your pants? Tie all loose around your throat?” She hummed, rolling her hips into the air. “I’m hot just thinking about it.”</p><p>With a playful growl, Anne bent forward and crashed their lips together again. She’d waited long enough, she thought; she needed Ann right fucking now. Her lips were insistent, her hands demanding as she roamed every inch of her wife’s incredible body. Bunching that paint-stained sweatshirt up, she dipped her head to press her lips to Ann’s ribs, just below her breasts, all over her quivering belly. </p><p>“Pony,” Ann sighed, lifting her hips so that Anne could slide the boxers off. “Oh, fuck.”</p><p>Anne shifted down, spreading her wife’s slender legs and inhaling deeply of her arousal. She curled her hands around Ann’s thighs and slowly dragged her tongue along her wet folds. Ann let a low moan of relief, lifting her hips into Anne’s face, one hand pressing gently to the back of Anne’s head. Anne worked her mouth over Ann’s center methodically but quickly; she flexed her hands around Ann’s thighs to remind herself to be gentle. She’d been so keyed up all day, had been imagining and remembering this exact sensation for hours; she didn’t want to rush it, but she was so, so impatient. </p><p>“Fuck, Pony,” Ann moaned, full-throated and wanton; Anne felt another jolt to her core. “Right there, Pony, yes, fuck, I - oh, wait, Pony, hold - wait, stop.”</p><p>Anne pulled back immediately, chest heaving and eyes wide. </p><p>“What? What is it? Did I hurt you?”</p><p>The words were still tumbling out of her mouth when she saw what had interrupted them - one fat little dog, eagerly pushing her toy into Ann’s face. With a groan, Anne sat back on her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Ann laughed and took the toy, tossing it to the far side of the room. They made eye contact over Ann’s flushed body as Tiny skittered across the floor. A beat of silence. Then they both laughed. </p><p>“Oh, God,” Anne groaned, flopping back onto the floor. “Is it too late to take her back?”</p><p>“Yes!” Ann said forcefully, reaching for the boxers and pulling them over her hips. “She can’t help it. Can you, baby?” Ann cooed, scratching the dog between her shoulders. “She just wants attention.”</p><p>“What if we went into the bedroom? Think she’d follow us?”</p><p>“Almost definitely,” Ann grinned helplessly. “Are you terribly disappointed?”</p><p>“I guess not,” she answered thoughtfully; she rolled onto her side, studying her wife and Tiny with a faint smile. “You two really get on, don’t you?”</p><p>“We do.” Ann tossed the toy again, using the distraction to rise to her feet; she held her hands out for Anne. “Come on, Pony.”</p><p>Anne heaved herself upright, kissing Ann gently on the lips. She wasn’t disappointed, honestly; she was just as glad to hold Ann in her arms like this as she was to bury her face between her legs. Well, maybe not <i>just</i> as glad, but, still, pretty glad. They sat on the loveseat, Anne leaning back against one arm with Ann sitting between her legs and resting against her chest. Ann toyed with their clasped hands in her lap. Tiny hopped up and sat between Ann’s legs, chewing determinedly on her toy. </p><p>“I have a question,” Anne ventured. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Earlier, on the phone”</p><p>“Uh-huh.” Ann teased the dog a bit before releasing the toy. </p><p>“You said it was hard. Doing both.”</p><p>“It was!” Ann giggled, leaning her head back against Anne’s shoulder. “It’s killing work.”</p><p>“Did you not - I thought you told me you used to wank a fair amount.”</p><p>“Pony!”</p><p>“Well!”</p><p>“I didn’t always - you know,” Ann paused, scratching Tiny’s head for a moment, “inside.”</p><p>“Ah.”</p><p>“I didn’t know if I liked it,” Ann said softly. “With, you know, everything.”</p><p>Anne’s gut sank; she hadn’t even considered that. Back in March, when they’d first - she hadn’t even known on that day. Had she overstepped the very first time they’d had sex? </p><p>“I didn’t -”</p><p>“You couldn’t know,” Ann soothed. “I love it with you. I wanted it then,” she said pointedly, as if reading Anne’s mind, “and I want it now. I crave feeling you inside me, Pony.” Ann traced a hand over Anne’s knee, up a bit on her thigh. “But it is bloody hard work on my own.”</p><p>Anne laughed, tipping her head back in relief. They sat like that for forty-two minutes, until Marian texted Anne for dinner. It was blissful, to hold her wife in her arms, with their wiggly little dog demanding all the belly rubs Ann could give. No, Anne would never tire of domestic life, not with Ann.</p><p>Later, as they took Tiny out before bed, Ann looped her arm through Anne’s and whispered hotly in her ear.</p><p>“I want your cock tonight.”</p><p>If Anne could have rocketed into space at that moment, she would have. They rushed upstairs, tearing off their clothes and tumbling into bed. Luckily, Tiny was thoroughly tuckered out from her walk and curled up in her own bed. Anne kissed her wife fiercely, grinding their underwear-clad bodies together.</p><p>“Fuck, Ann, you,” she pulled back, “you can’t say that stuff to me.”</p><p>“Are you complaining?” Ann teased breathlessly as she pulled off Anne’s bra.</p><p>“Absolutely not.”</p><p>Their lips met again, fiercely and passionately. That low flame that had been burning in Anne’s gut all day rose higher; she hadn’t realized just how deeply she’d been aching for her wife. Ann’s hands ran across her back, over her hips, into her boxers; Anne broke away to groan as she squeezed her ass. She nipped her wife’s shoulder as she slid her hands under her back and unclasped her bra. She tossed it carelessly over the edge of the bed before catching Ann’s lips again, deep and hungry and needy. Ann rolled her hips into Anne’s belly, and she could feel how wet she was. </p><p>“Pony, please.”</p><p>Grinning, Anne scooted back, taking Ann’s panties with her as she scrambled off the edge of the bed. She pulled off her boxers, found the strap, and fitted the harness hurriedly over her hips, giving a quick glance to Tiny. Still asleep, Anne noted with a sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure she could take another interruption. </p><p>“Come here,” Ann whined. </p><p>Spinning around, Anne found her wife sitting at the foot of the bed, her short legs dangling over the edge; she was massaging her own breasts in her hands. Anne let out a low moan of frustration, crossing to her in a single step. She took Ann’s flushed face in her hands, kissing her hard and reveling in the desperation of Ann’s hands across her back. </p><p>“I need it, Pony. I need you.”</p><p>Nodding frantically, Anne reached down, running her fingers through Ann’s wet folds. She knelt between her legs and dragged her tongue through her arousal. Ann moaned softly, her hips twisting under Anne’s hands. Never one to leave things unfinished, Anne worked her center just as she had done in the chaumière, teasing her clit with her tongue and her entrance with her fingers. Slipping into her wife’s clutching depths was the closest thing to relief she’d felt all evening. Ann’s desperate hands in her hair were the nearest she felt to heaven. </p><p>“Yes, right there,” Ann whispered, “come on, baby, please, I - yes, yes, yes.”</p><p>Just like that, she seized around Anne’s hand, curling upward and clutching tightly at the back of her head. Anne eased her down gently, placing a light kiss to her sensitive clit before pulling away. With a sigh, Ann fell back into the sheets, her legs still hanging over the foot of the bed; her breasts heaved as she caught her breath. Anne padded to the nightstand and found a bottle of lubricant; returning between Ann’s legs, she coated the strap liberally and waited for Ann to open her eyes.</p><p>“There she is,” Anne smiled as those deep blue pools reappeared. “Ready?”</p><p>“God, Pony, yes.”</p><p>Ann sat up, draped her arms around Anne’s neck, and pressed her lips to her clavicle. Wrapping her hand around her cock, Anne slowly eased forward, using gentle, shallow strokes until the last of the pink silicone disappeared. They moaned in quiet unison. For a few minutes, Ann rode her cock like this, rolling her hips into Anne’s thrusts, pressing down on her shoulders for leverage. It was exquisite, having Ann’s breasts press into hers, her breath hot against Anne’s skin, her thighs tight around Anne’s hips. </p><p>But, poor Ann never had much stamina did she? As Anne started to speed up, she fell back into the sheets; Anne wrapped her hands around Ann’s thighs, holding her up and rutting into her faster. Ann toyed with her breasts, reaching down to strum her own clit. </p><p>“Harder,” Ann begged, her voice breathy and high-pitched. </p><p>Her muscles burned, but Anne could never deny her wife. She pounded into her faster, harder, deeper. It was incredible. It was everything. Anne could feel the telltale flutter of Ann’s center around her cock. They were almost there, when -</p><p>Anne felt a warm wetness on her right ankle. She was so lost in her stroke she almost didn’t notice. Until she felt it again. Her hips faltered when she looked down. </p><p>There was Tiny, licking her ankle and looking up at her expectantly. Anne froze.</p><p>“What?” Ann breathed, trying to press back into Anne to restart their rhythm. “Pony, what?”</p><p>“Tiny,” she whined. “She’s looking at me.”</p><p>“Ignore her.”</p><p>“I can’t.” Anne surprised even herself with this, but, really, she couldn’t keep going with those sweet doggy eyes watching her. “I feel like - I feel weird.”</p><p>“Pony!” </p><p>“I’m mad too!” Anne grumbled, pulling out and falling into bed next to her wife. “Are we ever going to have sex again? I haven’t even -” she pouted, “that was a really good one, too.”</p><p>“Hold on,” Ann said soothingly, patting Anne’s stomach once before rising carefully to her feet.</p><p>Anne watched her pull her soft cotton robe around her body, then disappear into the hallway. Tiny tried to follow, but Ann closed the door too quickly. The dog looked up at Anne in question.</p><p>“I know,” Anne said sympathetically. “She left me behind too.”</p><p>Then Ann reappeared, a red toy in her hand. Anne tilted her head; it kind of looked like a snowman, but Ann was holding it upside down. She watched her wife coax Tiny back into her bed, then give her the toy. Tiny’s happy slurps filled the room. </p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>“It’s a Kong,” Ann answered with a shrug, hanging her robe over the hook in the closet. “The trainer recommended them. You fill them with peanut butter or something like that, and then you can freeze them. It takes them a while to eat all of it. Better on her teeth than a bone.”</p><p>“You know a lot,” Anne purred as her wife climbed back into bed next to her. “That’s very sexy.”</p><p>“Just you wait,” she whispered seductively, “until you hear what I found about heartworm testing.”</p><p>Laughing, Anne rolled her onto her back, shaking her head before kissing her soundly. It took just a few minutes of grinding together before Anne felt that familiar flame burn just as brightly as before. Ann reached for the bottle and covered Anne’s cock in lubricant once more, grinding the base against her clit. </p><p>“Fuck, Ann, I -”</p><p>“Come on, Pony,” Ann urged, “fuck me.”</p><p>Perhaps it was better like this, Anne thought as she eased inside once more. Ann’s ankles locked behind her back, her breasts pressed into Anne’s, her warm breath filled her ear. Anne started a slow, deep rhythm, drawing breathless moans from her wife with each stroke. Yes, this was definitely better.</p><p>Then she heard it. </p><p>There were the normal sounds when they made love - Ann’s high whines, her own low grunts, the slickness of arousal and lubricant and skin. But tonight there was a second sound: Tiny’s tongue moving about her Kong. Anne paused, wrinkling her nose. </p><p>“Anne,” her wife whined. “Come on.”</p><p>“She’s distracting me.”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“The dog,” Anne hissed, worried saying her name would rouse Tiny and interrupt them again.</p><p>“Just listen to me,” Ann breathed, pressing her hips up into Anne and restarting their grind. “You’re so hot, Pony. How’s that? Why are you thinking about the dog when you should be thinking about me? About how deep and - unh - how hard you’re - fuck, yes - you’re fucking me.” Anne grinned as her wife started to lose the plot. “You feel so - fuck - unh - you feel so good - right - yes, baby, can - fuck - can you - right there - touch me - Pony, please - can you -”</p><p>“Okay,” Anne panted, pistoning her hips with force and snaking her hand between them to find Ann’s clit. “You’re so close, Adney. You feel so fucking good, baby. Come on. You’re right there. Come for me. Ann. I love you. Come for me.”</p><p>With a silent cry and a full-body tremor, Ann shot over the edge. Anne slowed her strokes, easing wave after wave through her shaking body. The clutching of her core and the press of her slick skin threatened to push Anne over the edge with her, but it wasn’t quite enough. As Ann stilled, Anne pulled away, tugging off the harness and sitting on her heels. Her hands itched to touch herself, but she shoved them under her shins. She would not miss the opportunity to have Ann touch her. Not after the phone call and the interruptions. She’d worked too bloody hard for this one.</p><p>“Pony,” Ann giggled as she rose up on her knees, “you have such a serious face on.”</p><p>“I need you.”</p><p>“You’ve been so patient,” Ann cooed, tracing a finger between Anne’s breasts and over her stomach; Anne’s belly tensed in anticipation. She slid her hand down through Anne’s curls, circling her clit with her middle finger. “You treat me so well, Pony.” Anne slumped forward, burying her face in the crook of her neck. “You fucked me so well. Even when you were at work today, you made me come so hard.” Ann strummed her clit faster. “Just your voice,” she hummed, “and the thought of you - oh, Pony, it was incredible.”</p><p>It was then that the first wave crashed into Anne, threatening to drag her out to sea. Her hips jerked as electricity shot up her spine, burned between her legs, flowed evenly through her legs. She was barely aware of Ann stroking her gently through her climax, of the soft kisses to her neck or the gentle encouragement in her ear. When she finally relaxed, she could only pant and fall back into the sheets. Ann hopped to her feet, and, a moment later, Anne felt soft cotton land on her belly. Her pajamas. </p><p>“Oh, Adney. You’re amazing.”</p><p>“I know,” Ann said proudly from the bathroom.</p><p>Anne stared at the ceiling as she caught her breath. She hadn’t come that hard in a little while. Must’ve been all the waiting, she figured. Good Lord. The bed sank next to her and she turned, expecting to see a smiling, sleepy, read-to-me-Pony Ann. Instead, she was met with a wall of peanut-butter-scented breath. Tiny grinned at her. </p><p>“Ann,” she called. “Your dog is waiting for you.”</p><p>“She is <i>our</i> dog, Anne,” her wife answered, padding back into the room. “She finished her Kong, what a smart baby.”</p><p>Anne watched her wife scratch the dog affectionately, then go about cleaning up the mess their lovemaking had made. With a groan, Anne slid to the floor, stepped into her pajamas, took care of her nightly bathroom rituals. When she returned to the bedroom, Tiny was in her own bed, and Ann was waiting for her. She climbed under the covers, sighing in relief at finally holding her wife in this afterglow haze. <i>This</i> was the moment she’d been waiting for all day. Ann kissed her shoulder softly as Anne flicked open their book.<br/>
And then a warm shape nudged her feet. </p><p>Tiny, grinning that doggy grin, lay expectantly between her legs, as if she, too, were waiting for the story.</p><p>“Ann.”</p><p>“Let her sleep here,” Ann cooed. “Can’t we?”</p><p>“Of course,” Anne chuckled. “It’s cute, isn’t it?”</p><p>Her wife’s smile was so broad it almost broke her heart. Anne kissed the top of her head. </p><p>“Now, hold on, Adney. One more question.”</p><p>“Uh-huh,” Ann said sleepily.</p><p>“You’re saying you used my peanut butter for the dog?”</p><p>“Well, no,” Ann hedged, “she has to have a special kind. Some peanut butters have a chemical in them that’s toxic for dogs, so she gets the organic kind.”</p><p>“This dog gets a nicer peanut butter than I do?” She asked flatly.</p><p>“Well!” Ann shrugged helplessly. “I don’t want her to get sick.”</p><p>“We’d better be careful, Adney.”</p><p>“Why’s that?”</p><p>“If she gets this fancy peanut butter every time we shag, she’s only going to gain weight.”</p><p>Ann giggled and pinched her side.</p><p>“Now, Pony, you say that like I didn’t make the vet work out her exact caloric intake and just how much food and peanut butter and exercise she needs in a day to lose weight safely over the next several months.”</p><p>“Two things.” Anne held up two fingers.</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>“First, all those mathematical calculations are very sexy, Mrs. Lister. Perhaps I should ravish you all over again.”</p><p>Ann giggled and shook her head. </p><p>“Second,” Anne paused dramatically. “She <i>needs</i> peanut butter?”</p><p>“Yes!” Ann pinched her again. “Now read, Pony. Tiny and I are waiting.”</p><p>With a rueful smile, Anne opened the book again. She might complain, but this fat little dog held her heart too. She’d feared that domestic life was not quite her style, but she knew better now. What a joy, Anne thought, what an incredible blessing to be loved by two such innocent and sweet souls. To have the opportunity to love them in return.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>Okay last Hamilton reference, but the title for this one fit because A. I feel like in adjusting to Tiny and the new semester, Anne and Ann are finding a comfortable domesticity and B. LMM said he wrote “Dear Theodosia” after he and his wife got their dog so... dogs can make a couple into a family, ya know? So, of course, domesticity for the Ann(e)s is just tons of shagging. </p><p>Big shoutout to Naramis for the idea of a dirty phone call while Anne is at work! Phone sex is hard, like which words to use. “Tits” feels weird, but so does “breasts.” “Pussy” is marginal, depends on the context. I dunno, it’s hard, I think the wrong word can totally ruin it. What do y’all think?</p><p>Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Cater 2 U</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ok so this is rushed but at least it’s filthy?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How are you?” Ann texted her wife that Friday of the first week of school; she lounged on the couch in the living room, but she was considering going upstairs. Maybe Anne would text her something dirty.</p><p>Five minutes passed before Ann’s phone buzzed; she scratched Tiny with one hand and held her phone with the other.</p><p>“Awful. Your cousin - I might fight him.”</p><p>Smiling, Ann shook her head. No chance for sexting today, she figured. Poor Anne. The Department Head business hadn’t been settled definitively yet, and Ann knew it was making her wife stressed. Tiny jumped into her lap as Ann typed her response.</p><p>“What happened? Want me to call Mother Rawson?👊🏻👊🏻”</p><p>“No, thank you.”</p><p>“So what happened, Pony?”</p><p>Surely an argument with Christopher wasn’t all that was bothering Anne. She watched the three dots bounce for what felt like an eternity. It was nearly four; Anne had her last class of the day at four. Which, to Ann, seemed like a pretty shit time. Four on a Friday afternoon just seemed unfair. Finally, Anne’s message came through. </p><p>“Have a real prick in my 10AM. Argued with Hinscliffe and C. Rawson through my office hours. Taught my 1:30 the entirely wrong lesson. Dean giving Head to C. Rawson.”</p><p>Ann decided not to act on the easy innuendo of Anne’s words about her cousin. Poor Pony, she thought. They’d given the job back to Christopher; Ann didn’t want to blame it on her cousin’s sexual exploits, but it was hard to think of another explanation. Anne would be crushed, she knew. The delay had made the promotion seem that much more possible. Ann’s heart twisted with pity as she typed her response.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Anne. That’s awful. I know you’re disappointed. Let’s do something tonight.”<br/>
Anne didn’t respond, and Ann figured she must've started class. She tried to think of a way to cheer up her wife. An idea occurred to her.</p><p>They’d been renting Crow Nest out through AirBnB, which James and Washington oversaw. Ann wanted to keep the staff employed after the pandemic (it was just James and Mrs. Barclay), so they’d settled on this. The upside being that Ann and Anne could sneak over when the house was empty if they felt a little...vocal. She texted James to ask if the house was free tonight; it was. She sent him a few instructions then raced upstairs to pack their bags. </p><p>“Meet me at Crow Nest,” she texted her wife. </p><p>Marian drove her, promising to look after Tiny for the night. They agreed taking the dog out of her new home and ignoring her all night would be more confusing than spending the night in Marian’s room with Argus. </p><p>“I really appreciate it,” Ann said as they pulled into the drive.</p><p>“It’ll be fine,” Marian soothed. “Don’t worry. You’ve got that worried pet parent look. She’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Call me,” Ann said seriously. “Anything, anytime, really.”</p><p>“Okay,” Marian conceded. “Now go and shag my sister so she’s not a total bull when she comes home tomorrow.”</p><p>Ann blushed and shook her head; Marian was right, but it was a little embarrassing to hear it out loud like that. James appeared at the door and waved her off when she tried to retrieve her own bag. </p><p>“Thank you, James,” she said as they walked inside.</p><p>“Good to see you, ma’am. Mrs. Barclay has everything prepared, looking to a meal time at six.”</p><p>“You’re the best,” Ann said affectionately. “Has it been alright - the AirBnB stuff?” </p><p>“It’s good. We’re enjoying it.”</p><p>Ann nodded, unsure if James would tell her if the situation were otherwise. Not many tourists came to Halifax, but the sheer size of the house seemed to attract plenty of obscenely wealthy foreigners looking to explore the surrounding area, some staying for more than a week as they took in the countryside. </p><p>She prepared a few things in the bedroom then trotted down the stairs at the first sound of Anne’s Jeep outside. She was there, waiting at the door, when Anne flung it open. Usually, Anne entered the room like a hurricane; tonight, she was barely a rain shower. Her bun was coming loose, leaving her hair limp where it was usually so strong. She’d dressed up today; Ann remembered helping her. Anne had been so, so sure today would be her crowning glory. Instead, her formerly starched shirt seemed wrinkled, her waistcoat rumpled, her silky tie had lost its sheen. She held her blazer and greatcoat in her hand, her shoulder slumping with disappointment. Ann could feel her own heart breaking.</p><p>“Come here,” she said softly, pulling Anne into the house and closing the door. She eased the jackets from Anne’s arm and tossed them onto the table in the foyer. Placing a gentle kiss on her wife’s cheek, she took her hand and led her to the dining room. “I’m sorry, darling.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Anne squeezed her hand. “I’m okay.”</p><p>“You’re not. We’re going to have a nice night to ourselves and I’m going to take care of you and you’re going to let me.”</p><p>They sat down at that long table, which had two place settings; the steamy smell of paella filled the room. Anne keened softly.</p><p>“Adney.”</p><p>“Sit down.”</p><p>“You didn’t have to do this.”</p><p>“And I didn’t,” Ann said easily, slipping into the chair across from her. “James helped me. Marian is watching Tiny.”</p><p>“I love you,” Anne sighed. </p><p>“I love you, too. Now, do you want to talk about it now or do you want me to distract you?”</p><p>“Distraction, please.”</p><p>Ann was more than happy to brag about Tiny’s class that morning, go over her plans for returning to work next week, and embarrass Marian by telling her sister all about her faux pas with Thomas. </p><p>“But who’s Justin?” Anne asked, her mood lifting as she ate.</p><p>“It was Justin Trudeau, you know, the Prime Minister of Canada?”</p><p>“Marian had a dirty dream about Justin Trudeau?” </p><p>Ann nodded; her wife hooted with laughter.</p><p>“Oh my God!” Anne wiped her eyes. “Oh, poor Marian. Poor Thomas. What did he say?”</p><p>“Well, she hasn’t told him. That’s it’s Trudeau. So he thinks she’s running around with some bloke called Justin, and she doesn’t know if she wants to set him straight. Which is worse?”</p><p>“That is so fucking funny,” Anne grinned. “Holy shit. What a mess.”</p><p>“I know.” Ann was relieved to see her wife with a clean plate and a broad smile. “Shall we go upstairs?”</p><p>“What for?” Anne’s voice turned husky, her eyes dancing with mischief. </p><p>“For me to take care of you, Pony.” With that, the thunderclouds were back in Anne’s eyes, as if she’d forgotten them for a moment. She looked better than when she’d first come in, but Ann could tell she was still moping. “For once, Pony, let me take care of you.”</p><p>Anne sighed, but she stood. Hand-in-hand, they climbed those familiar stairs. Ann could never give up Crow Nest, not really; it was where she grew up, and it was where she fell in love with Anne. They could rent it out, but she didn’t think she could ever sell it. She led Anne to her old bedroom, which James had outfitted with soft music, fresh sheets, and rows of candles. She’d light those in a minute. First, she turned to her wife.</p><p>“Don’t move a muscle. Okay?”</p><p>Anne nodded, her brow furrowed as she were humoring Ann. Their lips met for a moment, Ann sliding her hand into Anne’s loose bun and freeing her dark locks. She pulled away, caught Anne’s lips just once more, then moved to the buttons of her waistcoat. She could see Anne swallowing as Ann eased open each button, then slid the grey material from her shoulders. She kissed her again, this time trailing her hands down Anne’s neck, to the knot of her tie, untying it gently before pulling it from her neck.</p><p>“Adney.”</p><p>“Don’t interrupt me.” </p><p>Ann caught her lips for a moment before moving on to her wife’s strong hands, which had settled on her waist. Ann pulled them up, pressed her lips to the knuckles of each, then released Anne’s left hand. She turned her wrist, unfastening the cufflink and sliding it into the pocket of her skirt; Ann kissed the inside of her wife’s wrist, before releasing it. She repeated this process on Anne’s left hand, this time kissing her wrist and the thin band on her ring finger. </p><p>“You looked so dashing today, Pony.” She started to unbutton Anne’s shirt. “You always do, but the cufflinks? You should wear those more often.”</p><p>“I don’t have many. Just these, and,” she hissed as Ann traced a finger down her now-exposed torso, “the ones Father gave me.”</p><p>“We’ll have to get you more.”</p><p>Ann kissed her again, leaving her shirt hanging around her shoulders as she eased open her belt, sliding it from the loops and dropping it to the floor with a clatter. Anne chuckled at the noise, and Ann playfully nipped the juncture of her neck and shoulder. </p><p>“Pony,” she warned.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You’ve been wearing your shoes this entire time?”</p><p>“I didn’t have a chance to take them off,” Anne shrugged sheepishly.</p><p>“I’ll allow it,” Ann teased.</p><p>She dropped to her knees, curling downward to unlace Anne’s brogues and slipping them from her feet. Rising up on her knees, she pressed her lips to Anne’s stomach, just above the waistband of her trousers - a straight line of kisses as she flicked open the button and eased the zipper open. It only took a slight tug for them to fall over Anne’s narrow hips and pool at her feet. Anne lifted her feet in turn, and Ann tossed the trousers behind her. She pressed her lips to Anne’s calves, her knees, the stretch of thigh leading to her green boxer-briefs. Inhaling deeply, Ann could tell her wife was wet. </p><p>“Oh, Pony,” she whispered, “want me already?”</p><p>“Yes,” Anne breathed, running her fingers through Ann’s hair. “Please.”</p><p>“I suppose,” Ann said softly, easing the green material down her legs and off to join the trousers, “I could help you with that.”</p><p>“Adney.”</p><p>She wrapped her hands around Anne’s bare hips, under the hanging fabric of her shirt, guiding her gently back to lean against the wall. Ann felt a bit silly, waddling around on her knees, but Anne didn’t seem to notice. She hissed as her back hit the wall, spreading her legs and offering herself to Ann. There was a sort of reverence to Ann’s movements as she brought her mouth to her wife’s core. She traced her tongue slowly through her arousal, circling her clit gently, kissing the wet insides of Anne’s thighs.</p><p>“Adney,” she sighed again, tightening her grip on Ann’s head. “I love you.”</p><p>What a sap, Ann thought proudly. Reduced to breathy declarations of love with just a few strokes from Ann’s tongue. Oh, how she loved her strong, ruthless Anne who, under Ann’s careful touch, became her submissive, needy Pony. She tightened her grip around Anne’s hips, taking her clit between her lips in the way that she knew made Anne crazy.</p><p>“Ann!” </p><p>It was urgent this time, so Ann decided not to tease her. She ran her tongue along Anne’s folds circled her clit, then once more. She closed her lips around the hard bundle of her wife’s desire, flicked her tongue over it, and dug her fingers into her hips as she started to shudder. Anne curled forward, pressing on Ann’s shoulders as the tremors ebbed through her. With gentle strokes and soft hums, Ann eased her through; she rubbed soft circles over Anne’s hips with her thumbs. </p><p>“Oh, Ann,” her wife sighed as she straightened. “Fuck.”</p><p>“Uh-huh.” Ann would never stop feeling so incredibly proud that <i>she</i> was the one to do this for her wife, that <i>she</i> was the one to unravel Anne Lister like this. “I love you.” She pressed her lips to the tops of Anne’s thighs as she guided her feet from her socks. “Come on, Pony.”</p><p>Rising, Ann led her into the bathroom and started to fill the bathtub. Anne was biting her lip and shifting uneasily on her feet; shaking her head, Ann kissed her again, sliding their lips together as she eased the shirt from Anne’s shoulders. They pulled away just enough to twist Anne’s sports bra off and over her head; Ann kissed her again before checking the water temperature. Perfect. God, she missed this tub.</p><p>“You’re still dressed,” Anne said softly. </p><p>“Good eye,” Ann teased, picking up the lighter James had left and lighting the candles around the room. </p><p>“Am I expected to get in this bath alone?”</p><p>“No,” Ann drawled, “but tonight is about you, Pony, okay? Will you let me take care of you?”</p><p>“Okay,” Anne said softly, looking down. </p><p>Ann knew how difficult it was for her wife to accept help like this, so she let the moment slide. She started to pull off her own clothes quickly, shaking her head as Anne reached out for her.</p><p>“Get in that tub, lady.”</p><p>Anne sighed and stepped into the warm water. Once she was undressed, Ann padded to her, running a hand along her shoulder.</p><p>“Scoot forward.”</p><p>“What?” Anne chuckled. “No, Ann, come on.”</p><p>“Scoot. Forward.”</p><p>“Ann,” she huffed, “don’t I ever get to say no to you? Are you always in charge? Would you just listen to me? What about what I want?”</p><p>“Of course, darling,” Ann cooed, “when you think of something that’s better than my idea,” she shrugged, “I’ll listen to you.”</p><p>“Ann,” her wife said sternly, staring at her hands under the water, “I have felt like a fool all day. I have lost out on a lot today, and I feel - I feel emasculated. Don’t start on the gender stuff, please; I can’t take it. I would,” her voice cracked, “I would feel a lot better if I could just hold you like I normally do.”</p><p>Ah. Now Ann understood. She thought she’d been pushing Anne in the right way, asserting herself just enough - especially since Anne was usually in control - but she hadn’t considered the way it would make Anne feel. That it might make her feel more uncomfortable, weaker - whatever that meant - just when she needed to rebuild her strength. She nodded and bent at the waist to kiss Anne softly.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Pony. I didn’t think about it like that.”</p><p>Gingerly, she climbed into the tub and leaned back against Anne’s slick skin. They sighed in unison. Anne’s long legs bracketed her own, her sharp knees poking out of the water; Anne took her hands, toying with them under the warm water. For a few beats, they just breathed together. </p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>“I think you should,” Ann tried. “Tell me about the jerk in your morning class.”</p><p>“Oh, well, he’s just an ass. Spending all his time trying to bait me into contradicting myself. This is a politics class, kind of, about the fall of the Roman Empire, and their job is basically to draw connections with modern societies. Anything 18th century forward. It’s actually quite an interesting class.” Ann didn’t want to disagree, but - yikes. Perhaps this was why she hadn’t lasted in uni. “But this guy - Straub, Eric Straub - he is just - he’s a total knob.”</p><p>“A knob?” Ann giggled.</p><p>“Yes!” Anne tugged on her fingers, laughing too. “He wanted me to talk about Trump today, and I just - I mean, I had to say, ‘what an interesting topic for your first assignment, Mr. Straub, but I’m trying to talk about Nero.’ You know?” </p><p>“What a jackass. Want me to come beat him up?”</p><p>“Oh, I think he’d like that too much,” Anne teased into her neck. “Perhaps you can come make him jealous one day.”</p><p>“Jealous?”</p><p>“I think he’s,” Anne kissed her throat, “in love with me.”</p><p>“Pony!”</p><p>“No, no,” Anne laughed, “of course he’s not. But I do think it would piss him off to see how beautiful my wife is.”</p><p>“I’m more than arm candy, Dr. Lister.”</p><p>“Boy, do I know it,” Anne said appreciatively. “This is very nice, Adney.”</p><p>“Yes, it is.” Ann sank a little lower into the water, reveling in the firm press of Anne behind her. “Now what about you teaching the wrong class?”</p><p>“It wasn’t the wrong class,” Anne chuckled. “It was the wrong lesson. I did this whole bit about Catullus, when we’re supposed to be doing Cicero until next week.”</p><p>“Fatal mistake. How could you do that?”</p><p>“I know,” Anne said thoughtfully. “I just got my lecture notes mixed up, and no one in the - wait, are you kidding me?”</p><p>“No, Pony. I would never.”</p><p>Anne clicked her tongue and jerked her hips once against Ann’s back, as if bucking her off. Ann just laughed and laid her head against Anne’s shoulder. </p><p>“Tell me about this business with the Dean.”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“It does.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“I - I don’t want to talk about it.</p><p>“Anne, I -” she sighed, “I think you should talk about it. Even though you don’t want to. I think it’ll make you feel better.”</p><p>No response. Ann tried again.</p><p>“You think of me as your wife, don’t you?”</p><p>“Of course.” Anne was twirling the onyx ring around Ann’s finger.</p><p>“Okay, so wives share this kind of stuff. Even though it hurts. Even though you’re embarrassed. I think it - I mean, how would you feel if I didn’t tell you something about my job?”</p><p>For a moment neither of them spoke. Anne kept fiddling with that ring. Then she inhaled, her chest expanding against Ann’s back.</p><p>“The Dean chose Christopher. Called both of us into his office at 3:30. The meeting had already been set, so I thought - I thought he was going to give it to me today.” </p><p>Ann hummed in acknowledgement; Anne had hinted as much this morning. Her ostentatious clothes for the day betrayed her confidence; Ann’s heart hurt. </p><p>“So, he tells us - you know, he just says he’s going to keep it with Christopher. That I did a fine job while Christopher was out, but that the department needs a - a steadier hand. A conventional sort of professor, which - what does that even mean? He means ‘not an out lesbian.’ As if he’s not screwing Christopher blind.”</p><p>“Do we know that for sure?”</p><p>“Jeremiah confirmed it to me. I asked him point blank before I left today, and - well, you know how he is.”</p><p>“Oh, Pony. I’m so sorry. That’s so unfair. That’s - I mean, it’s discrimination. We should appeal. Especially if the Dean is - that’s just not appropriate. He should lose his job for that.”</p><p>“Yes, he should,” Anne said slowly, “but I don’t want to get the job like that. I want to earn it. I don’t want it by default.”</p><p>“You <i>have</i> earned it. You deserve that job.”</p><p>“Thank you. I - it makes me want to quit and move away, but - but I can’t do that. Obviously.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“Shibden,” Anne answered automatically. “I could never realistically leave it for an extended period. Aunt and Father as well, they’re getting older. Tenure isn’t easy to come by anymore.”</p><p>“You know I’d follow you to the ends of the earth,” Ann said sincerely. </p><p>“I do.” Anne’s voice was soft, trembling. “I wish I could whisk you away. We could live in a city, somewhere - somewhere posh and lovely, not all crammed into broken-down Shibden. And I would be - I would be better than I am.”</p><p>“Anne.”</p><p>She twisted around, clumsily, sloshing the lukewarm water in her quest to meet her wife’s eyes. Cupping Anne’s handsome face in her hands, Ann stared at her for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was even and firm.</p><p>“You are everything. Not just to me. Everyone who comes into contact with you is better for it. Your family and your friends and your students and your staff and - all of us. We are so lucky to bask in your glow. Do you understand that? How incredible you are? The effect you have on people? We’re all just in awe of you. Seriously.”</p><p>Anne’s eyes were so full, her lips barely parted; Ann leaned forward to kiss her softly. Strong hands gripped her hips, digging into her as if she wanted to sink below Ann’s skin. Ann pulled away, swiping at her wife’s proud tears with her thumb.</p><p>“Okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Anne nodded, smiling just a little bit. “This water is getting cold, when do I get to shag my wife?”</p><p>“Whenever you want, Pony.”</p><p>“Did you - I mean, what did you pack for us?”</p><p>“Dirty girl,” Ann chuckled, rising carefully and holding Anne’s hand as she climbed out of the tub. </p><p>Ann wrapped a towel around her body and tossed another to her wife when she stepped onto the tile. She padded into the bedroom, tying the damp tendrils of hair above her head.</p><p>“Well?” Anne followed her into the bedroom. “Did you bring it?”</p><p>“Bring what?” She feigned ignorance, seeing the desire in her wife’s eyes.</p><p>“You know.”</p><p>“I brought pajamas and toothpaste and our book and clothes for tomorrow - oh, and our toothbrushes. Did I forget something?”</p><p>“The strap, Adney!”</p><p>“Keep your voice down, Pony,” she admonished. “Good Lord, you don’t have to scream about it.”</p><p>“Well?” She twirled Ann into her arms, unraveling the towel in the process. “Did you?”</p><p>“I did,” she said with a placid smile. “I almost didn’t. Something about being tender and gentle tonight, but,” she shrugged, “it’s us, so,” she traced her hand alone Anne’s bare sternum, “of course I brought it.”</p><p>Growling playfully, Anne buried her face in Ann’s neck, lifting her in the air. Ann wrapped her legs around her narrow waist, giggling as she spun in the air. Hungry lips pressed to her neck, followed by sharp teeth, then a soft tongue. She curled her hands in Anne’s hair and flexed her thighs around her hips. Anne’s face appeared in front of her, and their lips were crashing together, their tongues tangling, their hips rolling. Anne squeezed her ass then knelt on the edge of the bed; they tumbled onto the sheets together.</p><p>“Where?” Anne breathed.</p><p>“Suitcase. Right on top.”</p><p>“How you like me, huh?” Anne hopped to her feet, rifling through the bag. “Right and on top.”</p><p>Ann just laughed, shaking her head as Anne fit the harness around her hips. She’d certainly regained her confidence, Ann thought as she watched her wife pull out the strap itself, a bottle of lubricant, the bullet vibrator. Ann shivered; her wife was already making plans. Biting her lip, she held her arms out. Anne tossed her findings on the bed before launching onto it, planting her hands on either side of Ann’s head and kissing her soundly. Ann wrapped her arms around those strong shoulders, bending her knees and rolling her hips up into Anne’s. </p><p>“Ann Walker,” she purred, kissing a path down Ann’s throat to her collar bones then her breasts. “You’ve rebuilt me.” She took Ann’s breast in her mouth, sucking gently and laving her tongue over her nipple. She pulled back with a soft ‘pop.’ “Do you know that?” She gave Ann’s other breast the same treatment, sending thrills of electricity over her skin, straight to her core. “I felt so broken today, Adney.” She rested her forehead gently against Ann’s sternum; Ann scratched the back of her head affectionately. “I don’t think anyone’s ever done that for me. Not like you.”</p><p>Ann’s throat burned with unshed tears and the words she wished she could say. She didn’t have the way of speaking that Anne did. All she could do was pull that handsome face up to hers, kiss her soundly, and hope Anne understood. From the sappy smile on her face when they separated, Ann knew she had.</p><p>“And now, Miss Walker, I’m going to fuck you thoroughly and properly.”</p><p>Ann keened in response; her stomach tensed in anticipation as Anne trailed her lips down to the apex of her thighs. Anne lifted her legs over her shoulders, dipping her head to cover Ann’s core with her mouth. Ann gasped at the sensation, twisting her hips under her wife’s strong hands. Closing her eyes, she reached down to hold onto the back of Anne’s head.</p><p>“Oh, fuck, Pony.”</p><p>She started quietly, accustomed to keeping it down when Anne’s skilled tongue worked her center, but then Anne nipped the inside of her thigh and she remembered where they were. </p><p>“Yes,” she moaned, loudly and freely; Anne was stoking fire between her legs. “Yes, Pony, right - fuck, there - yes, yes, I - fuck, Pony, yes, just -”</p><p>And then she was gone, lost to a deep, low moan and the exquisite pressure of Anne’s tongue. She lost herself to the warm ripples flowing up her chest and between her legs. She was babbling, to be sure, but she couldn’t help it. She was still mumbling when Anne’s glistening face appeared above her own.</p><p>“Fast today, Adney,” she teased.</p><p>“You’re good at that,” Ann breathed. “It’s amazing I lasted as long as I did.”</p><p>“Oh, you always know how to make a girl feel good.”</p><p>Ann craned her neck to claim that smug smirk as her own. Her wife hummed into her mouth, pulled away with a nibble to her lower lip, then wrapped her hands around Ann’s waist. </p><p>“Ready?”</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>With a wink, Anne scooted to the side and flipped Ann onto her stomach. Oh. Ann shivered as Anne traced a single finger down her spine to the curve of her behind.</p><p>“We shouldn’t waste the opportunity, Adney. To make a little noise.”</p><p>Ann nodded into the pillow, fresh arousal flowing between her legs already, even just as Anne’s finger passed over her puckered hole. She felt Anne’s lips press across every inch of her lower back as her thumb continued to massage between her cheeks. Slowly, Anne progressed to kissing the round swells of her ass, biting down gently and soothing each spot with her tongue. Then she shifted, slipping her long fingers down to Ann’s folds, replacing her thumb with her tongue. </p><p>The sound that left Ann’s lips should’ve embarrassed her. The highness of it, the breathiness, the sheer neediness. It was incredible, wasn’t it? To want someone this much? To break apart from the simplest touch? Except, it wasn’t so simple, was it? Anne was methodical and magical - the intensity of her touch was no accident. She was a master at this, her skilled attentions between Ann’s legs sending pleasure to every cell in her body, the very fiber of her being. </p><p>“Anne,” she whispered weakly as Anne continued this maddening, slow, even pace in her center and between her cheeks. “Please.”</p><p>“Ready for it, are you, Adney?”</p><p>“God, yes.”</p><p>Faintly, she heard some rustling behind as Anne pulled away and, she assumed, affixed the strap between her hips. She trembled with excitement. Strong hands lifted her hips with the utmost tenderness, one running reassuringly along her back.</p><p>“Fuck, you are so,” Anne inhaled sharply, “so beautiful.”</p><p>It struck Ann as odd, this description in this situation. Anne was always so sentimental, even as she pressed the tip of her cock between Ann’s folds. This was a key part of the antidote for her disappointing day, Ann knew: making rough, passionate, filthy love. It restored her confidence, grounded her in their relationship, reminded Anne of the depth of their connection. And by God, was she fucking good at it. </p><p>“Oh, Pony,” she sighed as Anne’s hips met her behind. “Holy - oh, fuck.”</p><p>“I know,” Anne groaned, kneaded her hips and ass. “You’re so bloody gorgeous, I - fuck.”</p><p>With that, Anne started a slow, deep rhythm. Ann moaned wantonly with every stroke. Oh, it was good to be able to cry out again. She felt a slick thumb press against her puckered hole; she pressed back into it. They groaned in unison as Anne eased inside. Her fists curled around the bedsheets; the pressure between her legs was almost unbearable.</p><p>“You feel so good,” Anne panted, her hips speeding up. “Fuck, Ann, you’re - fuck.”</p><p>All Ann could do was grind back into her, match Anne’s rhythm, and let out a series of high-pitched gasps as her climax coiled tighter and tighter in her gut. Anne was rutting into her with abandon, filling her so completely and stroking her clit in perfect rhythm. It was incredible, it was everything, it was almost too much. The obscene sound of their skin meeting only made Ann hotter. The tightening grip of Anne’s hands, her low grunts, the dual pressure - it was all too fucking much.</p><p>“Pony!” She screamed as her release crashed into her; Anne’s sharp thrusts eased immediately, gently stroking every drop of pleasure from her. “Pony, Pony, Pony, fuck, I - I love you,” she sighed, collapsing forward with the final tremor.</p><p>“Adney,” her wife purred, slipping out from behind her; Ann shivered at the loss. “Oh, I love you, darling.”</p><p>“Take this off,” she murmured sleepily, rolling over to tug at the harness. “Come here.”</p><p>She heard Anne’s throaty chuckle, the jangle of buckles, then Anne’s face appeared above her. She was smirking again. That damned arrogance, Ann thought as she wrapped her hands in those dark locks and brought their lips together. This confident, swaggering woman was a stark contrast to the shell she’d brought inside before dinner. She raised her eyebrows as Anne pulled away.</p><p>“I see you brought this.” She looked pointedly at the vibrator. “Got something in mind?”</p><p>“And if I did?”</p><p>Ann just smiled as her wife caught her lips again, rolled her hips, and snaked a hand between them to cup her breast. For a few moments, they moved together just like this. Sensual and slow and sweet. This moment was important, too, Ann knew; hasty and rough sex was good - Good Lord, it was good - but Anne had had all of that. Too much of it, perhaps. The important difference, the one Anne needed to be reminded of, was that their relationship was about more than pure pleasure. It was connection and jokes and knocking knees and caressing cheeks and deep, sappy eye contact as their cores pressed together.</p><p>“Ann,” came the low moan.</p><p>“Anne,” she echoed, unable to think of anything more eloquent.</p><p>Their hips ground together, their arousal mixing and slipping as Ann grappled at her wife’s broad back. It was all she could do to hold on. Anne kissed her jugular, her throat, her jaw. Incredibly, Anne managed to bring their lips together as she reached for the bullet and brought it between them. Ann gasped as the gentle pulses traveled from her clit up her spine. It was all a jumble - grasping hands and murmured words and quickly-building pleasure. Her hips jerked as the first wave crashed into her. </p><p>“Yes, Adney,” Anne growled as she started to shudder. “Yes, fuck, I-”</p><p>Shaking her head, Ann just cupped her face and kissed her ridiculous, loquacious wife. They rode out their climaxes together, kissing sloppily and shaking and connecting in perfect unison. At last, Anne disentangled their legs and flopped next to her. Her arm must’ve flung over the side, because the soft thunk of the bullet dropping to the floor cut into their satisfied panting. Ann turned to her wife, and they burst out laughing.</p><p>“Oh, Lord,” Anne chuckled. “I couldn’t love you any more, Adney. Seriously. You were -”</p><p>“No, Pony, <i>you</i> were like-”</p><p>“Damn,” Anne grinned. “This turned from the worst fucking day to the best fucking night.”</p><p>“Now, Pony,” Ann drawled, curling into her wife’s chest, resting her head on her shoulder and tracing a finger over her slick stomach, “I want to say something, and you have to let me finish.”</p><p>“Okay.” Ann could practically hear her wife’s brow furrowing.</p><p>“I want you to know - uh, that you are - um, that you’re not just a good lay. Let me finish! I know a nice shag always makes you, um, makes you feel better, and - like, I just need to say this. You’re so much more than an exceedingly talented lover. I need you to remember that. You’re smart and funny and caring and - and - oh, Pony, I just want you to know that.”</p><p>For a long moment, Anne didn’t say anything, and she worried she’d overstepped. Why did she always do this? She should’ve just let them enjoy their postcoital glow and fallen asleep in Anne’s strong arms. Why was she always opening her bloody <i>mouth</i>? Anne wouldn’t -</p><p>“I love you, Ann Walker.” Anne’s low voice was rougher than usual, her hand drawing anxious circles over Ann’s lower back. “One day I’ll show you how much. I - I can only say it right now, but - I - thank you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! </p><p>Okay so this whole thing based on a suggestion from VerseTop about taking care a stressed-out Anne, a la Destiny’s Child - Cater 2 U. As I didn’t have as much time to write today, so there are definitely sections I’d like to expand on, but there are also sections I really like. </p><p>What do you think?</p><p>Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. The Three Steps</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Is it too tight?” Anne asked Tib as the tailor unpinned and repinned the hem to her trousers. “I feel like the jacket is a bit tight.”</p><p>“I thought Miss Walker liked that,” Tib teased, winking at her in the mirror.</p><p>Huffing, Anne continued to study her reflection. The suit was a bit much, wasn’t it? Aunt Anne had thought it was great when she’d picked it out, but now, at this near-final fitting, Anne was less than sure. She wanted everything to be just right and, while she was certain all eyes would be on her bride, she was afraid to look schlubby on her own wedding day. The ceremony would be just family, sure, but the reception would be essentially a parade of judgment. God, she wanted to look sharp.</p><p>Ann had insisted they keep their attire completely secret, which only exacerbated Anne’s anxiety; she would feel so much better to have Ann’s stamp of approval. Having her wife choose her clothes for the past several months had only increased her dependency on Ann’s keen eye. Instead, she’d chosen her suit herself, with only Aunt Anne as counsel. Now that Tib was more stable, she’d invited her oldest friend to this fitting for a bit of moral support. </p><p>The suit itself was quite nice, Anne thought. A classic morning suit, with straight grey trousers and a matching grey waistcoat. Starched white shirt, French cuffs for Father’s cufflinks, under a royal blue cravat. The same royal blue as her long coat, the tails of which skimmed the backs of her knees. Aunt Anne had insisted on new brogues for the occasion, impossibly shiny ones that Anne could see her reflection in. She twisted a bit in the mirror, but the tailor tugged on her leg. Sighing, she reminded herself to stay stock-still. </p><p>“You look great,” Tib rolled her eyes. “Though I did just bring mine in to have it taken in, since I’ve lost a bit.” She patted her belly affectionately. “So, honestly, if anyone’s going to be bursting out of their suit, it’ll be me.”</p><p>Anne shook her head with a chuckle, grateful that Tib had a morning suit on hand that just needed a bit of tailoring. Rich family, she supposed. Mrs. Norcliffe adored fancy parties with strict dress codes; Anne made a note to call her to set up an introduction for Ann. </p><p>“I don’t know.” Anne tugged self-consciously at her sleeves. “I might jump out of my suit from nerves alone.”</p><p>“Come off it, Lister. You’ll be fine. That girl is crazy for you, and you’re crazy for her. This is simple. Sign the paper and lock her down.”</p><p>“I’m not nervous about that, just - oh, I don’t know.”</p><p>“All set,” the tailor straightened, examining every inch of Anne’s suit with an appraising eye. “Yes, all set. Be <i>very</i> careful when you hang this up, alright?”</p><p>Anne nodded obediently, watching the older man leave. She turned to her friend, waiting for her to leave as well. Tib tilted her head in question.</p><p>“You’re just going to stand there?”</p><p>“I’ve seen it before,” Tib shrugged, “and, uh, no offense, you’ve got a nice body, but - well, I am dating a twenty-two year old.”</p><p>“I hate you,” Anne laughed, easing the jacket from her shoulders. </p><p>“Tell me more about these nerves.” Tib leaned forward, miming a pen and paper. “Let Dr. Norcliffe sort you out.”</p><p>“Well,” Anne drawled, feigning annoyance but actually glad for the opportunity to work out her fears with someone who’d been through much of the same heartache she had, “first of all, I’m going to have this big lug up there next to me. And my sister! So, that’s the pits.”</p><p>“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Tib nodded frantically, her invisible pen flying across the invisible paper. </p><p>“But really, um, I think I’m afraid of - afraid of the pressure. You know? Once we’re married it’s - it’s real. I can’t screw it up. I mean, I can’t screw it up now, but - I’m just afraid that I’ll get up there, and she’ll - something will change.”</p><p>“Something will change how?” Tib asked thoughtfully as Anne stepped gingerly out of her trousers. </p><p>“Like she won’t want me anymore, or she’ll realize this is a mistake, or -” Anne shook her head, too caught up in her own thought process to feel embarrassed about standing in front of Tib in her shorts, “oh, I don’t know.”</p><p>“Ann loves you,” Tib said gently. “She’s not going to change her mind.”</p><p>“What if I screw it up? I say the wrong words, or I don’t have the rings, or -”</p><p>“Marian is going to have the rings, right?”</p><p>“Well, yes -”</p><p>“Okay, so I’ve known Marian as long as I’ve known you, and she’s very organized. Don’t worry about the day-of,” Tib advised, “that’s just a party. It’s going to be fun and exciting and - well, you’ll finally get to have sex. That’s going to be pretty great.”</p><p>Anne laughed and pulled her jumper over her head. </p><p>“You’re going to do great,” Tib said sincerely. “It’s normal to be nervous, but just remember that nothing is going to change. She’s already living with you and putting up with your bullshit, so she’s clearly a fool.”</p><p>“Don’t talk about my wife like that,” Anne teased. </p><p>“See? You already call her your wife. You’re set. Let’s get some lunch, eh?”</p><p> </p><p>Across town, Marian held up Ann’s phone as Elizabeth’s smiling face filled the screen. Biting her lip, Ann turned slowly to showcase her dress. It was still a bit long, a bit slouchy in the shoulder, but after today’s fitting, it would be perfect. The white gown brushed the floor, a Grecian cut that Ann had been unsure of at first. She studied it carefully in the mirror, Marian and Elizabeth behind her. The neckline was high on her chest, dipping just low enough to showcase her collarbones, then closely fitted across her torso, cinched in with a silver belt around her waist, close around her hips, then flaring gently around her legs to pool at her feet. Over her shoulders, slim silver epaulettes attached the flowing fabric around her arms; the dress was sleeveless, curling over her shoulders and open at the back. The fabric along her arms twirled enticingly around her arms as she swayed. She turned to face Marian, looking over her shoulder to examine her exposed back; the fabric ended low on her back, near her bum. </p><p>“Is it too low?”</p><p>“No!” The sisters cried in unison.</p><p>Ann blushed and shook her head.</p><p>“I think it’s amazing,” Elizabeth gushed through the phone. “You look spectacular.”</p><p>“One hundred percent,” Marian agreed. “It’s very tasteful.”</p><p>At her feet, a young seamstress started pinning her hem up; Ann wore the specially-dyed white heels she’d bought to match the dress. For a few moments, no one spoke. </p><p>“You look hot,” Elizabeth’s tinny voice came through.</p><p>“Liz!” </p><p>“She’s right,” Marian ventured. “Anne is going to lose it.”</p><p>“Do you think so?” Ann turned slightly at the seamstress’s urging. </p><p>“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Marian said firmly. “Be prepared, Elizabeth, my sister is going to look at your sister like a piece of meat she’s going to swallow whole.”</p><p>“Marian!” </p><p>“I think that’s okay,” Elizabeth laughed, “since the whole day is about their commitment. It’s alright to be a little lecherous.”</p><p>“You two are so embarrassing,” Ann groaned; she looked down to the girl at her feet. “I’m sorry about them.”</p><p>The seamstress smiled and waved her off, urging her to turn just a bit more. </p><p>“Are you nervous?” Elizabeth asked in her matter-of-fact way.</p><p>“Yes, obviously. I’m always nervous.”</p><p>“You don’t need to be,” her sister said gently. “Anne loves you rather a lot.”</p><p>“That’s right,” Marian echoed.</p><p>“What if she - I mean, what if she changes her mind?”</p><p>“She won’t,” Marian said flatly. “No way.”</p><p>“Why would she?” Elizabeth asked. “That’s ridiculous. I evaluated her, and she could not be more genuine. If anything, she should be worried about you leaving her. No offense, Marian.”</p><p>“None taken; I know my sister sucks.”</p><p>“Stop!” Ann whined. “She’s my wife, come on.”</p><p>“There it is,” Elizabeth nodded on the screen. “You already think of her as your wife. You live together, and you share your lives already. This is just a formality.”</p><p>“I’ve never seen Anne like this,” Marian offered. “If that helps. There’s no way she would change her mind.”</p><p>“She’s just so - it’s hard for me to believe that she’d actually settle down with me.”</p><p>“She already has,” Marian urged. “She - look, we all know Anne. We know the rumors, so let’s get real. She’s been around the block.”</p><p>“Uh-huh,” Elizabeth agreed.</p><p>“<i>But</i>,” Marian continued, “she has never once acted like this. I’ve seen all of the messy details, and she’s never gone this far. Moved anyone into Shibden and bought the ring and made all the plans. So, really, she’s a big flake, but not with you.”</p><p>“Annie, when - wait, Marian, will you take me closer?” Marian stood, bringing the phone level with Ann’s face. “When I Skyped you back in March, and you two were in bed -”</p><p>“What!” Marian cried.</p><p>“We were fully dressed,” Ann protested, “my back was out. It was during the quarantine.”</p><p>Marian nodded with a wink, as if she knew Ann were lying, which, of course, she wasn’t.</p><p>“You were in bed, and she went out to the hallway, do you remember?” Ann nodded. “Okay, so I asked her what the hell she was doing messing around with my little sister.”</p><p>“Fair point,” Marian chimed in. </p><p>Ann giggled and swatted her. </p><p>“Annie, if you could - God, if you could’ve seen the sincerity in her eyes? Really, it was something special. She had the ring, and she was all proud of it, and she made it really clear to me that she was serious about you. And you know the ringer I put her through in October. The last thing you need to worry about is her changing her mind.”</p><p>“She’s right,” Marian said jovially. “She’s nuts about you. It’s annoying having to live with you two.”</p><p>“I bet it is,” Elizabeth laughed. “Did I tell you I caught them shagging in the middle of the afternoon?”</p><p>“Liz!” </p><p>“I’ll tell you another time.” Her sister’s voice changed, and her face disappeared for a moment. “Sackville, I swear to God -” she reappeared, “I’ve got to go. You look gorgeous, Annie. My dress is in, and if I can stop eating sweets, I’ll fit into it. Bye now.”</p><p>Elizabeth’s face disappeared, and Marian sat back on the narrow chair across the room. Neither of them spoke as Ann rotated again. Studying her profile in the mirror, Ann tried to absorb her sister’s words. She knew they were true, of course. She knew how much Anne loved her. Of course. She rotated again, losing her reflection and smiling helplessly at Marian.</p><p>“She’s right, you know. About Anne.”</p><p>“I know,” Ann nodded. “I know, I know.”</p><p>“She’s actually getting annoying about it to be honest. She’s asked me seventeen times about my dress, if it’s the right color, if it’s going to match her suit, and - here’s the thing. If Anne is getting nervous, like, really, actually nervous, that means she cares. She doesn’t get nervous about telling off the men or being a bitch to her students, but she does get nervous about disappointing you. That’s important.”</p><p>Ann was grateful that the seamstress took that moment to pat her ankle lightly to get her to rotate; now she could face away from Marian and blink back her tears in private. She nodded, wiped her eyes, and rotated once more.</p><p>“Oh, Ann, yes,” Marian said. “The back is amazing. You have, like, a really good back.”</p><p>“Tell that to my doctor,” Ann joked.</p><p>“Alright,” the seamstress stood. “How is that?”</p><p>“Excellent,” Ann grinned. “Marian?”</p><p>“Oh, lovely. I think it’s perfect.” </p><p>“So the shoulders, obviously,” the seamstress pinned them in place, “we’ll take those in, but the rest of it looks great.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ann breathed, unable to believe she was actually in her wedding dress. “I love it.”</p><p>“You look beautiful,” the seamstress said kindly, her hand resting on Ann’s lower back over the zipper. “Can we take it off?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Want me to go?” Marian asked. </p><p>“No, it’s okay. Well - actually,” Ann chuckled. “I mean, I’m not wearing a bra, so I - I don’t know.”</p><p>On the one hand, Ann wasn’t really shy being naked. She’d been through so many uncomfortable medical examinations that she didn’t think much of a stranger seeing her nude body, like the seamstress or a masseuse. At the same time, she didn’t want Marian to feel uncomfortable. Marian shrugged, and Ann smiled. They felt more and more like sisters every day.</p><p>“I don’t mind. I promise not to tell Anne.”</p><p>“Oh, she’ll be mad with jealousy,” Ann giggled as she slid the dress easily from her shoulders, then took the seamstress’s hand to step out of the bottom. She wrapped the provided silk robe around her body as the seamstress hung up the gown. “It is rather pretty, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Gorgeous,” Marian agreed.</p><p>The seamstress exited with a smile, and Ann started to dress. </p><p>“You really think she’ll like it?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” Marian drawled. “She’s going to freak out. We’ll have to wipe her drool.”</p><p>“What’s her suit look like?”</p><p>“No, no, no, you know the rules. I am not allowed to say.”</p><p>“What’s your dress look like?” Ann tried.</p><p>“Nope. I wasn’t born yesterday.”</p><p>Groaning playfully, Ann shrugged into her coat. They’d agreed not to share their wedding attire with each other, but the suspense was killing her. Marian rose to her feet with a bright smile.</p><p>“Come on, let’s go have lunch”</p><p> </p><p>They met Anne and Tib at a restaurant nearby; the short walk had chilled Ann to the bone, and her wife took her hands as soon as she walked in. Anne was particularly stunning today, she thought, with her hair tied back in a low bun, her dark green jumper and jeans peeking out from behind her greatcoat, those scuffed and perpetually muddy boots shifting restlessly as they waited for their table.</p><p>“I did tell you to bring your mittens,” Anne admonished gently, rubbing Ann’s cold hands between her own.</p><p>“Good to see you too, darling,” Ann teased.</p><p>“Oh, give it a rest,” Marian groaned, kissing Tib on the cheek. “They’re ridiculous, aren’t they?”</p><p>“Have I told you about the time I caught them going at it at seven o’clock in the bloody morning?” Tib laughed, squeezing Marian’s waist playfully.</p><p>“No,” she groaned in response, “but I believe it. You know, we share a wall.”</p><p>“Oh, you’re a saint.” Tib affected the sign of the cross, for which Anne smacked her on the arm. “Alright, alright, don’t get violent.”</p><p>They snaked their way through the crowded restaurant to their table. Ann positively buzzed with excitement - lunch in a posh London restaurant? Having just been fitted for her wedding dress? With Anne Lister? It was too good to be true. Tib and Marian were always good company, as well. Ann only missed Catherine, who had bowed out at the last moment this morning, claiming a hangover. That was okay, Ann figured, since Catherine’s bridesmaid’s dress was ready anyway. Elizabeth and Catherine on her side, Marian and Tib on Anne’s - it was going to be beautiful.</p><p>“Now this dress of yours, Adney,” Anne said evenly, her eyes trained on the menu, “it’s rather low-cut, isn’t it?”</p><p>“No, it - hey! Don’t try that! It’s a secret.”</p><p>Anne groaned playfully, but she said no more. They ordered, and Anne took her hand under the table, drawing slow circles with her thumb over the back of Ann’s hand. </p><p>“You’re sure?” Tib asked Marian. “Not even a little bit?”</p><p>“I’m not gay, Tib,” Marian said affectionately, squeezing her shoulder. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told you that.”</p><p>“If you’re not sure,” Tib drawled, “I’d be happy to -”</p><p>“Hey, Tib,” Anne interrupted pointedly, “how’s Miss Pickford?”</p><p>“Oh, good,” she answered happily; Ann marveled at her shamelessly flirtatious nature. “She’s really enjoying her job and living in the city.”</p><p>“What’s her apartment like?” Anne asked casually.</p><p>“Oh, she hasn’t -” Tib froze, her eyes wide as if she’d been caught.</p><p>“You moved that girl in with you?” Marian asked. “Don’t you think it’s a bit sudden?”</p><p>“Almost three months,” Tib said sheepishly. </p><p>“I knew it.” Anne shook her head. “You’re going too fast.”</p><p>“Well, she couldn’t find anywhere, and - and she was looking. We went to see a couple of places, but - I mean, she was always at my place anyway, and...” Tib trailed off with a shrug.</p><p>“I think it’s nice,” Ann ventured.</p><p>“What?” Her wife turned to her sharply.</p><p>“Well, you know, it’s fast, but they really care about each other, and -” Ann shrugged, “I mean, we only knew each other for two weeks, before I moved with you.”</p><p>Marian sat back in her chair, nodding and narrowing her eyes, as if studying the lesbians in their natural habitat. </p><p>“Thank you, Miss Walker,” Tib said with a small smile. </p><p>“Yes, but you have your own home,” Anne pressed, “so if you wanted to leave, you could. Pic can’t do that. Her family’s up in Halifax, so if you two break up, she’s up a creek.”</p><p>“We won’t break up,” Tib said flatly.</p><p>“Yeah, you say that now,” Anne said, “but anything can happen.”</p><p>Ann’s stomach twisted.</p><p>“I’m serious about her, Lister. We’re not going to break up. It’s never been like this before.”</p><p>“You can’t know that, Tib. Anything can happen, and this girl isn’t protected.”</p><p>Her wife’s words rang in her ears; Ann thought she might be sick.</p><p>“I mean, you have the money,” Marian interjected, “not to be crass, Tib, but, like, what if you just paid for an apartment for her? You can use it as your sex dungeon, or whatever nasty things you do.” Tib barked out a laugh at that. “But then you both have a bit of a fallback. Some insurance.”</p><p>“Doesn’t admitting you need a Plan B imply that you’re preparing for Plan A to fail?” Anne asked. “I mean, it’s like these celebrities, getting pages and pages of a prenup. What are they thinking? They’re just getting ready to get divorced.”</p><p>She couldn’t hear anymore; Ann rushed from the table, searching wildly for the toilet. She wrenched the door open, thanked God for single-occupancy bathrooms, swept inside, locked the door, and burst into tears. How could Anne say that? They’d drawn up the prenup almost as soon as they’d gotten back from Paris, and they were going to sign the papers next week. Anne had said it was about protecting them, making sure their assets would go to each other and their heirs; she’d cited example after example of same-sex couples that had been mistreated in the wake of one partner’s death. She’d claimed it was so that Marian would always be provided for, that she wanted to give Ann a lifetime interest in Shibden, didn’t want it to get tangled up in court. Ann had believed her, but now she wondered - was it all just a prelude to the divorce? Was Anne already looking for the exit door? </p><p>There was a knock. Ann said nothing. The door knob rattled. Another knock. </p><p>“Adney,” her wife’s muffled voice was soft and tender. “Let me in. Please. I - can we talk about this?”</p><p>Wordlessly, Ann unlocked the door. Anne stepped inside, locking it back behind her before wrapping Ann in her arms. For a few moments, Ann cried into her shoulder, letting the last of the panic ebb from her body. The anxiety of the dress, the crush of the restaurant, her interpretation of Anne’s words - it had overwhelmed her. Anne whispered to her softly and rubbed her back. </p><p>“That’s okay, darling. You’re doing very well. Breathe for me, my love. That’s it. Very good. Just breathe. Do you want to leave?”</p><p>Ann shook her head, inhaling deeply of the scent that lived in the crook of her wife’s neck. </p><p>“Okay. That’s fine. What, uh, what happened?”</p><p>“You - you,” Ann hiccuped, “you said pre-pre-prenups are for p-pe-people who get d-d-divorced. And we- we’re getting one n-n-next week.”</p><p>“Oh, darling,” Anne said softly. “I didn’t mean us. I was just - I wasn’t thinking. I was making an old argument I’ve made a hundred times. That was so stupid. I - I didn’t even think.”</p><p>Ann just shook her head; she wasn’t ready to argue.</p><p>“Let me tell you why we’re different from the point I was making. The thing I used to believe. First, we’re in love. I was thinking of those celebrities who get married for three weeks. More importantly, we’re deeply committed, so this piece of paper is just to help us. It’s about making sure Marian always has a claim to Shibden, if I die tomorrow, and that you do too. It’s about making sure your nieces and nephews have everything they need, but that Sutherland doesn’t take advantage.” Ann chuckled, sniffing and nodding into Anne’s neck. “Okay? It’s businesslike and impersonal, and that’s not us. We’ll probably never need it, but we’d be fools not to have it.”</p><p>“Okay,” Ann said softly. “What - um, what about the other stuff?”</p><p>“What?” </p><p>Anne pulled back, trying to get a look at her. Ann had her hands on her wife’s chest, her eyes trained on the tight knit of her jumper. Anne squeezed her hip, and she looked up.</p><p>“About not knowing each other for every long and moving in too fast and Tib and Frances being - about them breaking up. That you can never be sure you won’t break up.”</p><p>“Oh, Adney,” she sighed. “I - I didn’t mean that about us.”</p><p>“But it could be us! They’re going a lot more slowly than we ever did, and you’re saying it’s too fast! You’re saying something could come up that would break them up? That could happen to us! What’s the difference?”</p><p>For a long beat, neither of them spoke. Ann watched her wife process; she considered pulling away entirely, but she couldn’t deny the safety she felt in Anne’s arms. Finally, Anne inhaled and spoke quietly.</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“What?” Ann breathed. </p><p>“There’s not that much difference between Tib and Pic’s relationship and ours.” Ann opened her mouth to protest, but a strong hand squeezed her hip. “Just listen. We’re a couple with a significant age gap that fell in love pretty quickly. Right? So, no, I can’t promise that nothing will ever come up. How could I? What I can promise is that I love you, and I’m trying. All I think about all day is making you happy and keeping you safe. And shagging you silly.”</p><p>Ann chuckled, though she still wasn’t convinced; the tears had stopped, and she felt calm once more. Anne’s low voice with its slow cadence certainly helped. </p><p>“Okay? So, no, technically, there’s nothing we can be certain of in the future. It’s not possible. What I can be certain of is the present: what I feel, right now, is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. And, darling Adney, we can be certain of the past. That we’ve built a relationship that’s going to last. That we listen and we take care of each other and we trust each other and ourselves and our love enough to - to sustain us. It has in the past.”</p><p>Ann nodded, smiling softly as Anne wiped a tear from her cheek.</p><p>“My uncle told me this once about Shibden: we can’t be sure that it’ll never go away. We can get grants and register it and set it up as an historic site, but, at the end of the day, it could still crumble to dust. All that we can be sure of is the history. That this place is full of history and ancestors and the warm vibrancy of the past. Isn’t that a nice turn of phrase? I can still hear him saying it. Anyway, when he was getting older, I worried about taking over, and he told me that. We can trust in the past, in the fact that Shibden has stood for centuries, and we can trust in our own actions, day by day. If we work every day to keep Shibden up, it’ll stay strong. It’ll last. If we get lazy or cut corners, we’ll be ruined. Do you - does that make sense?”</p><p>“Yes,” Ann said simply, tilting her chin.</p><p>Anne kissed her softly, erasing all of her worries. It made sense, what Anne said. It was the best guarantee she could get. There were no promises in this life, she conceded; the tragedies in her own family proved that much. The only thing she could count on was the present, Anne’s arms around her, their lips sliding together. Gently, Anne turned her around, pressing her back into the locked door. The relief coursing through her body turned quickly into desire. Ann wondered.</p><p>“Do we have time?” She gasped as Anne pulled away. </p><p>“Ann Walker,” her wife purred, “you amaze me.”</p><p>“Let’s go back.” Ann shook her head. “That was stupid.”</p><p>“No,” Anne grinned, “you’re not stupid. If you want me to,” her voice turned sultry, “fuck you real quick up against this door, just tell me.”</p><p>“I do,” Ann breathed. “I really, really do.”</p><p>“Better be quick, Adney,” Anne teased into her neck. “Tib and Marian are waiting on us.”</p><p>Unbelievably, Ann was already wet. Perhaps it was a bit of everything - the dress, the tension, the making up. She hissed as Anne dipped into her jeans, craning her neck to catch her lips. Anne kissed her slowly, deliberately, deeply; her fingers teased her clit for a tortuously long moment. She gripped Anne’s handsome face, tilting her head to thrust her tongue inside, needing more of her. Anne moved quickly, but she wouldn’t be rushed. Her fingers pressed Ann’s clit harshly, but her lips were impossibly languid. Ann grunted in frustration.</p><p>“Patience,” Anne husked, strumming her clit. “You’re always in such a rush.”</p><p>“Pony, please,” Ann whined, rolling her hips.</p><p>“I love you,” she breathed in Ann’s ear. “I wish I could show you how much.”</p><p>Ann tightened her grip around her wife’s broad shoulders; her body tensing in preparation. Anne had her right on the edge, teasing her closer and closer. Finally, she gave in, delivering Ann to that final pinnacle of pleasure with a twist of her hand and the press of her lips. Gasping, Ann shuddering against the door, slumping forward into her wife’s arms as her release rolled through her. </p><p>“Good girl,” Anne purred, kissing the side of her neck. “I love you, Adney.”</p><p>“I love you,” Ann panted, leaning back against the door as Anne’s hand slid out of her jeans. “Oh, Pony, I do love you.”</p><p>“I know,” Anne grinned, washing her hands in the sink. “How do you feel?”</p><p>“Great,” she laughed. “You’re like a magician.”</p><p>“It is a three step process, my love. First, insert foot in mouth. Second, apologize. Third, make it right by making you come.” </p><p>“Anne!” She laughed.</p><p>“Just a joke, darling.” Anne dried her hands. “How do you feel about everything else?”</p><p>“Better,” Ann said honestly. “Good. Great. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“No, I’m sorry.”</p><p>Anne kissed her softly, took her hand, and led her back to the table. Marian was already eating; Tib grinned broadly as they sat down.</p><p>“Naughty girl, Anne Lister,” she teased.</p><p>“Shut up,” Anne answered tersely. </p><p>“I seem to remember,” Tib said loftily, “being in a similar situation, just before the first of the year, and you, Dr. Lister, were so very judgemental about it.” </p><p>“I don’t remember that.”</p><p>Ann nudged her lying wife’s knee under the table. </p><p>“They’re always like this,” Marian said dryly. “Have a big row then disappear for hours.”</p><p>“We were not gone for hours,” Ann blushed.</p><p>“I see,” Tib said appreciatively. “A little make-up shag.”</p><p>“Tib,” Anne warned. </p><p>“You two,” she clicked her tongue. “It’s only going to get worse with wedded bliss.”</p><p>Ann laughed, shaking her head, grateful that her wife quickly diverted the conversation. She inhaled deeply, reveling in the tumultuous waves of voices around her. Tib’s low, boisterous laugh, Marian’s dry quips, Anne’s even voice with the teasing lilt, her hand tracing over Ann’s knee. The future was a mystery, wasn’t it? She could admit there was nothing to do about that. For now, she just enjoyed this perfect bubble. Tib and Anne had a light skirmish over the check, with Tib eking out a victory. Marian wrapped her arm around Tib’s shoulders, laughing and mussing her pompadour. Anne shook her head and turned to her wife, pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek, then whispered softly in her ear.</p><p>“Is it too late to elope?” </p><p>“Yes,” Ann hissed. “It’s already been decided. Everything is set.”</p><p>“Fine,” Anne sighed. “I suppose it’s too much to ask to have no idiots at our wedding, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Well, yeah,” she answered seriously, “if there were no idiots, who would I marry?”</p><p>Spurring out a laugh, Anne squeezed her knee again, taking Ann’s chin in her hand and kissing her soundly. Yes, Ann thought, she could certainly enjoy this perfect bubble.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>So if you’re a big diary nerd, like I am, you probably remember what Anne called “The Three Steps” incident, AKA when Anne was so hyped to see Mariana that she chased her carriage down and, instead of being excited, Mariana was insanely embarrassed. If I remember right, it’s part of all the Scarborough business, like when their relationship fractures seriously at the end of the first Helena Whitbread book. In contrast, I saw a three-step process forming with the Ann(e)s - Anne fucks up/Ann breaks down, then they make up, then they shag. So there’s a little pun going on there. A bit of a stretch, but, boy, do I have a lot of time on my hands. </p><p>I also wanted to be sure to include a little wedding preview. I’ve been lax in describing their wedding prep, but rest assured the Ann(e)s are getting everything settled.</p><p>Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Valentine’s Eve: Pothered</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ann’s snores were almost out of control. Not quite, Anne conceded, but almost. Soon enough she’d have to say something. It was incredibly endearing, yes, but when paired with Tiny’s snores? Anne might need to revisit those earplugs in the nightstand. Turning carefully in her sonorous wife’s embrace, she laid on her back and checked the clock. 5:32. Might as well get up.</p><p>It was Saturday, the day before Valentine’s. Anne was looking forward to it. She’d made reservations and would put the finishing touches on her gift today. Her first real Valentine’s Day. In the past, it was all sneaking around or cynical drinks with other lonely singles. Not this year. This year she could celebrate properly. What a sap. </p><p>Thinking of this holiday, well, was there any doubt it would put Anne in the mood? Not to mention her wife’s angelic face on her pillow, the curve of her body below the sheets, the warmth of her skin pressed into Anne’s. She was grateful they hadn’t dressed after making love last night. Her right arm was pinned under Ann’s body, so she bent it upward to trace between her shoulder blades. A smal, satisfied smile spread over Ann’s lips. Turning onto her side, Anne trailed her other hand over her wife’s side, along her waist, over her hip, down to her thigh. Those blue eyes eased slowly open.</p><p>“Good morning,” she purred.</p><p>“Hi,” Ann murmured sleepily. </p><p>“What time are you meeting Catherine?” </p><p>“Ten.”</p><p>“Perfect,” Anne purred, leaning in to catch her wife’s lips in a teasing kiss.</p><p>Ann hummed softly, reaching out to wrap Anne in her arms, hiking one leg over her hip. Anne’s thigh slotted neatly between her wife’s legs. Ann moaned softly as Anne pulled her close, grinding against her core. Their lips met languidly, their bodies rolling slowly, their hands tracing and caressing. There was no urgency to it, and, as such, Anne allowed herself to be rolled onto her back. She smiled as Ann meandered her way down her neck, over her collar bones, to her breasts. Breathing deeply, Anne surrendered to her gentle attentions, focusing on the exquisite sensation of Ann peppering light kisses across her breasts, even arching her back as Ann ran her soft tongue around her nipples.</p><p>“Adney,” she whispered, twisting her hips.</p><p>“Pony,” Ann drawled, pressing her lips in a line of kisses up her sternum to her chin then her lips. Anne opened her eyes to find her wife grinning proudly. “You’re getting so good at that.”</p><p>“At what?” </p><p>“At letting me touch you. At enjoying yourself.”</p><p>Rolling her eyes, Anne clicked her tongue, but then Ann caught her chin, kissed her soundly, and bit her lip. When she pulled away, she was grinning again. Anne squeezed her hips playfully. </p><p>“Proud of yourself, are you?”</p><p>“Maybe.” Ann sat back on her heels between Anne’s legs; the covers pooled around her waist. She placed her hands possessively on Anne’s stomach, which only accentuated her chest. Anne licked her lips, lost to the slow rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed. “You’re too easy, Pony.”</p><p>“What?” Anne blinked several times to return to the present, rather than the enticing world of her wife’s chest. </p><p>“You’re, like, mesmerized.”</p><p>“Can you blame me?”</p><p>“I guess not,” Ann chuckled, curling her fingers around Anne’s sides. “Shall I have you for breakfast?”</p><p>“Ann,” she groaned, “oh my God.”</p><p>“So,” Ann dragged the word out, settling between her legs and hovering over her core, “that’s yes?”</p><p>“Good Lord, that’s a yes.”</p><p>Ann grinned widely, scrunched up her nose in excitement, then dropped her head to kiss the insides of Anne’s thighs. Her slender hands slid under Anne’s legs, down to her knees, bending them and spreading them apart; Anne twisted her hips, angling into Ann’s warm, wet mouth. Her core clenched as Ann stroked her folds, teased her clit, probed her entrance just for a moment; she trembled as Ann’s fingers trailed up her stomach and traced shapeless patterns over her ribs. </p><p>“Ann,” she breathed, shifting restlessly. “Come on.”</p><p>“Let me enjoy you.” Ann’s breath was warm against her center. “There’s no hurry.”</p><p>Groaning helplessly, Anne closed her eyes. Low flames licked between between her legs, building slowly as her wife unraveled her movement by movement. Her blonde head bobbed as she dragged her tongue through Anne’s arousal, grazed her teeth over her clit, dug her fingers into her hips. It was maddening, this light pressure, this teasing, this slow, impossible build. She tangled her hands in soft curls, rolling her hips gently into Ann’s face. It wasn’t enough; she needed her wife closer.</p><p>“Come here,” she breathed. “Ann, please.”</p><p>“Pony,” Ann said in that slow way of hers, pressing her lips to Anne’s thighs, her hips, her stomach. “I’m right here.”</p><p>“Kiss me,” she begged, face coloring at the neediness in her voice; she hated to admit it, but she was desperate for Ann’s face above her own. “Please.”</p><p>Ann smiled softly as she brought their lips together, circling her fingers just where her tongue had been moments ago. Desperately, Anne pulled her closer, slipping her tongue into Ann’s mouth, rolling her hips to meet Ann’s gentle ministrations between her legs. </p><p>“Darling Pony,” Ann breathed, speeding up incrementally, “you need me, don’t you?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“You’re so close, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>Humming happily, Ann buried her face in Anne’s neck, licking and biting and kissing as her fingers strummed her clit harder and faster. Anne’s legs started to tremble, her hands tightening around her wife’s hips as she raced toward her climax. With a deep moan, Anne arched into her, pleasure streaking up her spine as her body shuddered through her release. Ann coaxed each wave from her, pressing soft kisses along her neck and whispering in her ear.</p><p>“Oh, Pony. Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so hot. I love you, Anne.”</p><p>“Oh, Lord,” she sighed, eyes still closed as she collapsed back into the sheets. “I love you.”</p><p>“Uh-huh,” Ann grinned, sliding her hand up Anne’s stomach.</p><p>“Pretty proud of yourself, are you?”</p><p>“What’s wrong with that?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Anne husked, pulling Ann’s lips back to her own; she rolled them over carefully. “Not a thing.”</p><p>“I just like it,” she breathed as Anne kissed her neck and rolled her hips against her. “I like being the one who - um.” Anne trailed down to her breasts, lavishing them with attention as Ann tried to speak. “Who does that for you. It’s - uh, it’s special. I - fuck, Pony, how are you so - I mean,” she arched upward; her hands roamed Anne’s broad back, “it’s like, it’s -”</p><p>“You know,” Anne purred, ghosting her fingers over her wife’s core, “you don’t always have to talk, Adney. You can just,” she slid her index finger between Ann’s wet folds, “say my name.”</p><p>“Anne,” she moaned as Anne started a slow, even rhythm. “Anne, I - oh, Anne.”</p><p>“That’s right.” Anne slipped her middle finger inside, curling with every thrust, her thumb stroking over her clit. “You’re so hot, Adney. You feel so good.”</p><p>Ann just moaned in response, a low, half-strangled sound as her hips rose to meet Anne’s hand, her arms wrapping around Anne’s back. Their breasts pressed together as Ann pulled her closer; Anne built up speed, unable to hold back from taking her wife faster, harder. She could feel Ann start to tense below her, her hips rutting into Anne’s hand urgently, the filthiest half-sentences dripping from her lips.</p><p>“I - unh, Pony, right - yes, fuck, can - Pony! Fuck, Pony, - so - fuck, so good, baby, I’m - I’m so - yes - oh, yes, yes!”</p><p>With a grin, Anne realized her wife was right on the edge. She brought their lips together in a sloppy, dirty kiss, speeding her hand up as Ann dug her fingers into Anne’s shoulders.</p><p>“Close?” Anne breathed; her wife nodded, urgently. “Come for me, Adney. God, you feel good.” Ann sank her teeth into the juncture of Anne’s neck and shoulder. “That’s it, baby, come on.”</p><p>With that, Ann finally let go. She stretched taut, her hips juddering as Anne eased wave after wave from her core; her sharp teeth dug into Anne’s skin, but she didn’t mind. She was happy to wear a high-necked shirt if it meant bearing the proof of Ann’s love on her skin. At last, Ann sighed and released her, relaxing into the sheets, limp and breathless. </p><p>Anne eased her hand away, rubbing gently along the outside of Ann’s thigh and over her hip. She kissed her wife gently, once, then twice. Ann licked her lips as she pulled away. </p><p>“Better get up, darling.” Anne swung her feet to the floor; as if on cue, Tiny stretched in her bed. “If you want time to shower and meet Catherine.”</p><p>Ann nodded weakly, her eyes still closed. Shaking her head, Anne padded into the closet. Really, she should shower, but she was going to work outside all day. It didn’t make much sense to get clean now and shower again later. Tiny sat patiently in the closet doorway as Anne dressed in her old work jeans and a thick jumper. As she brushed her teeth, she pulled the collar to the side; sure enough, Ann had left the faint impression of her teeth. Anne smiled as she replaced the fabric, feeling warm all over at the brutal, overwhelming physicality of their love. She pulled on socks, tied her hair back, and lifted Tiny into her arms; the dog did seem lighter. She licked Anne’s face affectionately as Anne carried her toward the bed.</p><p>Ann was still recovering, her legs splayed wide and her eyes closed. Carefully, Anne tipped the dog forward, holding her fast and bringing her nose to Ann’s cheek. Tiny sniffed and licked avidly, until Ann laughed and wriggled away.</p><p>“I’m taking Tiny out,” Anne said as she set the pup on the floor. “We’ll be back by the time you’re washed and dressed, and we can drive you into town.”</p><p>“Tiny can drive me?” Ann teased.</p><p>“Well, I do the pedals.”</p><p>The sound of her wife’s bright giggles buoyed her all the way down the stairs, with Tiny close at her heels. Argus heaved himself upright to greet his friend as Anne kissed her aunt on the top of her grey head. </p><p>“Good morning.”</p><p>“Good morning,” Aunt Anne echoed. “Will you bring me another?”</p><p>She held out her mug, which Anne took dutifully; Father, buried in his newspaper, just held his out without a word. Scoffing, Anne took both, filled Aunt Anne’s with tea and Father’s with coffee, and returned them.</p><p>“Anything else, your majesties?”</p><p>“What are you doing today, Antsy?”</p><p>“I’m going to walk the dogs, then I’m dropping Ann in town, then I’m going to work on the,” she lowered her voice, “greenhouse.”</p><p>Aunt Anne nodded with a knowing smile, just as Tiny and Argus crashed into the room. Anne ushered them to the kitchen, filling each of their bowls; strangely, they were not greedy about being fed in the morning. It was the evening meal that made them whine and beg, testing the intestinal fortitude of the entire household. She slipped into her boots, coat, hat, and gloves before she hooked Tiny’s harness around her round little body, clipped the leash on, and led both dogs into the morning. </p><p>It was delightfully crisp this morning, just the kind of wintry weather Anne adored. Argus trotted to and fro, frolicking in the thin layer of snow; Tiny, she could tell, wanted to join him. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? She unclipped the leash, and Tiny waddled out to her friend. Argus was a good teacher, she noted as they strode across the fields; he guided Tiny along their customary path, nosing her when she got distracted. </p><p>“Tiny!” She called, just to test. The little black dog trotted right up to her feet. Perhaps she could be trusted. Anne patted her affectionately, then released her. </p><p>They made their rounds like this, with the dogs surveying and investigating and prancing as Anne made her list for the day. The greenhouse was her big surprise for Ann, a bit of color for the dreary months to come. It would probably be April or May before there were any really sunny days, and Anne knew her wife suffered for it. Pickles and his men had built the greenhouse, and slowly, Anne had been sneaking away to fill it. She just needed a few more hours to finish and arrange and clean. She almost couldn’t wait to present it to Ann.</p><p>“Argus!” She bellowed. “Tiny!”</p><p>Both dogs rushed to her, and she clipped Tiny back to her lead. She didn’t want Ann to see she’d let the dog free; Ann didn’t trust that Tiny would come back. They traipsed back inside, Anne stomping snow from her boots and leaning down to free Tiny from her harness. Her wife stood in the kitchen, her thick socks pulled over the ankles of her tight jeans, a chunky orange sweater around her shoulders, a plain white t-shirt underneath. She was cutting an apple into slices, but abandoned her task as soon as the dogs reappeared. Anne stooped to untie her boots.</p><p>“Hi, baby,” Ann cooed. “How was your walk?”</p><p>“Oh, good, we -” straightening, Anne saw her wife burying her face in Tiny’s fur. “You’re speaking to the dog, aren’t you?”</p><p>“What’d you say?” Ann looked up.</p><p>“Nothing, darling,” she laughed, popping an apple slice into her mouth. “You look cute.”</p><p>”Thank you.” Ann stood with a smile, pecking Anne’s lips. “Look how smart Tiny is.” She held up a small piece of apple, perhaps a third of a slice. “Sit!” </p><p>Tiny’s butt hit the floor. Anne laughed.</p><p>“Yes!” Ann said proudly, tossing the apple, which Tiny caught in her mouth. “Isn’t she brilliant?”</p><p>“Brilliant,” Anne teased. </p><p>“Don’t be jealous, Pony. You’re brilliant, too.”</p><p>“Oh, not nearly so brilliant as Tiny.”</p><p>“Think you can catch an apple in your mouth?”</p><p>“A whole apple?” Anne chuckled. “Yeah, probably.”</p><p>“Alright.” Ann picked up a slice. “I won’t even make you sit down.”</p><p>“Oh, thank you,” she teased, taking a step back, bending her knees in anticipation. “Whenever you’re ready.”</p><p>Well, the first slice was a practice. It glanced right off Anne’s cheek, much more quickly than she anticipated. Tiny snuffled it greedily from the floor. Frowning, Anne crossed her arms. </p><p>“Not so easy, is it?” </p><p>“Give me another one.”</p><p>Shaking her head, Ann picked up a thicker slice. This one Anne managed to snag between her teeth, the long end protruding. Giggling, Ann clapped her hands together; Anne pulled her wife to her by the belt loops. Ann bit off the end of the slice between them. They chewed for a moment, eyes locked in a fiery gaze. Anne wondered if they had time.</p><p>“No, Pony,” Ann teased, tracing a hand over her chest before kissing her quickly. “We have to go. I don’t want to be late.”</p><p>“Fine,” Anne sighed, kissing her once more, hard, before releasing her. “Let’s go.”</p><p>The drive into town was short, and Ann held her hand the whole way. Little moments like this, Anne often took them for granted. She pressed her lips to the back of her wife’s hand. </p><p>“You’re in charge of tomorrow morning, my love, will you be giving me any sort of hint?”</p><p>“No,” Ann drawled. “Though, we won’t be getting up as early as you do. That is my decree, as I am Queen of Valentine’s Morning.”</p><p>“Oh, is that your title?” Anne laughed.</p><p>“I think it’s fitting,” Ann giggled with a shrug. </p><p>“We’re sleeping in late to…” Anne trailed off, “do what?”</p><p>“It’s a surprise, Pony. Come on. Let something be fun.”</p><p>Pulling into the parking lot, Anne turned to her wife with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow. Ann just smiled innocently and tilted her chin. Anne kissed her soundly, then pulled back.</p><p>“How about now? Will you tell me now?”</p><p>“No,” Ann said simply, kissing her once more then wiping a smudge of her lipstick off Anne’s lip. “Catherine will bring me home, okay?” Anne nodded. “Love you.”</p><p>“Love you,” Anne called as her wife hopped out of the car and walked into the restaurant. </p><p>On the drive back to Shibden, she tried to think of what Ann could have planned for them. They’d agreed to split Valentine’s Day in half, with Anne taking care of the evening’s activities, and her wife, the morning’s. Anne wasn’t sure she could wait twenty-four hours to show off the greenhouse. It was her version of flowers on Valentine’s. Cut flowers are already dead; the greenhouse would live and grow for years. </p><p>“Take this one with you,” Marian called from the couch when Anne announced her plan to workoutdoors for a few hours. </p><p>“Just Tiny, or both?”</p><p>“Just Tiny.” Marian pulled Argus closer to her chest. “He’s my blanket.”</p><p>Anne scoffed and rolled her eyes, patting her leg to get Tiny to come to her. She carried the lead in her hand, but she didn’t clip it to Tiny’s harness. She could be trusted, couldn’t she? Tiny trotted along happily next to her, occasionally slowing down or veering to the side to sniff something, but she always came when Anne called. By the time they arrived at the greenhouse, she was trying to work out a way to tell Ann this without admitting she’d risked the dog running off. </p><p>The greenhouse itself was excellent, exactly how she’d imagined it. Not terribly large, but not cramped. Raised beds lined three walls, with a long row of beds and flat surfaces in the middle; some flowers and shrubs were planted directly into these beds, but some were potted. There was an empty section in the very middle, a sort of work station, Anne fancied, where they could re-pot and trim and the like. Along the wall with the door, Anne noted as she ushered Tiny inside, were hooks for coats and a tray for boots. Two pairs of wellies stood ready for their feet; Anne pictured them, in the summer, coming in here after a romp in the chaumière or a nice dinner or a walk in the fields. They could slip into these no matter what ridiculous shoes Ann had on. A series of aprons and gloves and tools hung nearby as well. Anne grinned at the realization of her vision.</p><p>She lost herself in final preparations and tidying. Tiny explored every inch, sniffing and pawing and clicking her little nails against the floor. Anne really couldn’t pinpoint when she stopped hearing that clicking. She’d just finished potting the last orchid when she realized it had been a while. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she looked around. No sign. She bent at the side, looking under the tables. Nothing.</p><p>“Tiny!” She called, patting her leg.</p><p>Still nothing. Her stomach started to churn. </p><p>This was a closed environment, she told herself; the dog couldn’t possibly have gotten out. Hadn’t she closed the door?</p><p>No, in fact, she had not. At least, not so well that Tiny couldn’t paw it open. A narrow crack had turned into a fully ajar door; Anne shivered at the chilly air coming in. Why hadn’t she noticed sooner? </p><p>Wrapping her coat around her and grabbing Tiny’s lead, she raced out into the field. This time, she closed the door firmly behind her. She pounded across the fields, calling for the dog and cursing herself. Here and there, she would spot little paw prints, but the snow wasn’t very deep. Whole sections had been cleared away, so Anne continually lost the trail. She spent a half-hour looking. Then an hour. Then another. Her face was burning with the cold by the time she dragged herself inside, broken and anxious and afraid. Ann was going to be crushed.</p><p>“What’s happened?” Marian asked as Anne passed through the living room.</p><p>“Nothing,” she answered mechanically, climbing the stairs to her office. </p><p>“Anne?” Her aunt called, but Anne ignored her. How in the world was she going to fix this? </p><p>The estate was large, but, really, Anne had searched almost all of it. She worried that Tiny had somehow gotten to the road, had been hit by a car, had gotten too cold and laid down and was now frozen somewhere, scared and alone and slowly dying. She sat down at her desk, held her head in her hands, and cried.</p><p>The depth of her emotion surprised her. Mostly, she was sad and upset and worried for her wife. Tiny had come to mean so much to her, to the entire family, and she was so pleased with herself for having trained her. Ann might never forgive her for this, she conceded, but she wasn’t as worried about that. She deserved Ann’s anger, but Ann didn’t deserve this hurt. Why hadn’t she closed the bloody door?</p><p>The other side to her tears was more surprising. She was genuinely upset for the little dog herself. Poor Tiny, she kept thinking, out there alone, in the cold, unable to come back home. She’d come so far, and Anne had promised to keep her safe. And how fucking arrogant had Anne been to let Tiny off the lead all morning? She’d thought she was so fucking smart, and then - now, she was gone. All because Anne - the person who was supposed to protect her - didn’t double check the door. What an absolute, miserable failure.</p><p>“Pony?” Her wife’s soft voice came through the door; Anne’s head shot up. “Can I come in?”</p><p>Anne wiped her eyes hurriedly, her mind racing. What was she going to tell her? Before she could even think straight, Ann’s smiling face appeared in the door. Anne’s heart sank - perhaps this was the last time she would see that smile. </p><p>But then - well, it took her a moment, but then she saw it - Tiny. That damned fool of a dog. Grinning happily in Ann’s arms, breathing hard with her tongue lolling out to one side. Anne’s jaw hung open. </p><p>“Lose something?” </p><p>“Oh my God, where did you - how did you - where was she?”</p><p>“Well, Pony,” Ann sat down heavily in her lap, her right shoulder pressed into Anne’s left, her knees hanging over Anne’s and her feet dangling above the floor; Tiny sat in Ann’s lap and licked Anne’s arm affectionately, “Catherine was driving me home, and as we got to Shibden, we saw this little round dot by the front door. Could you guess who it was?”</p><p>“Oh, darling,” Anne breathed, unsure if she was speaking to her wife or the fat dog now eagerly accepting her head scratches. “Oh, I was so worried.”</p><p>“That’s what Aunt said, that you’d been out working on something outside with Tiny, then you’d come up here alone. That you wouldn’t talk about it.”</p><p>“I did look for her,” she said urgently, looking up to Ann’s soft blue eyes; “for two hours, Ann, I called for her and I - I looked everywhere I could think. I don’t know where she could’ve gone.”</p><p>“Two things,” Ann said gently.</p><p>“Yes, anything.”</p><p>“First, aren’t we glad she came home?”</p><p>“Yes,” Anne sighed, kissing the top of Tiny’s head. “Yes, what a smart, smart girl she is.”</p><p>“Second, you see this?” Ann pointed to the small grey device on Tiny’s collar. “This tracks her steps <i>and</i> her location.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“So the next time you lose our daughter,” Ann chastised playfully, “just text me, and I can find her location on my phone. Or, better yet, you get the app too.”</p><p>“Okay,” Anne nodded frantically. “Yes, of course.” She pulled out her phone and handed it to her wife. “Whatever you need to do.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Ann tapped away on her phone, and Anne willed her heart to slow down. She had them both. Still. They were here. She was fine. She’d screwed up, but it was okay. Ann fixed it, and Tiny fixed it, and now Ann was ensuring that it would never happen again. She breathed a sigh of relief, laying one hand flat across her wife’s back and the other on Tiny’s round shoulder. Her little family, intact still.</p><p>“There,” Ann set her phone on the desk. “Basically, any time she’s out of range of the house’s WiFi, we’ll both get a notification. If your phone is nearby, it’ll say “Pony is taking a trip with Tiny,” or if I am, it’ll say Adney is. I actually saw that she left the house while I was at brunch, but then it said she came home. She was probably sitting at the front door around the same time you were looking for her. ”</p><p>“You put our names as Pony and Adney?” Anne felt a smile grow across her face.</p><p>“I did,” Ann rubbed her hand along Anne’s shoulders, behind her neck, “do you mind? I didn’t really think about it.”</p><p>“Of course not,” Anne said softly, leaning in to bring their lips together. “Can I show you what Tiny and I were working on?”</p><p>“Will you promise to use her lead?”</p><p>“Of course,” Anne chuckled as her wife hefted their dog in her arms and stood. “Always, always, always.”</p><p>“Well, I really think we can trust her; let’s just give it a bit more time.” </p><p>Ann bent over to set Tiny on the floor; unable to resist, Anne wrapped her hands around her wife’s narrow waist, pulled her bum into her hips. Giggling, Ann straightened, laying one hand over Ann’s and reaching the other behind her to curl around Anne’s neck. Anne kissed her gently, just behind her jaw, where her head met her neck. </p><p>“I was so worried,” she breathed. “About Tiny and about you and about - about fucking up again. I always do this.”</p><p>”It was an accident,” Ann said gently. “Don’t get worked up over an accident. It’s okay. That’s why we have this tracker, right? It’s okay.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“And you don’t always do this,” Ann said, turning in her arms. “Mistakes happen, Pony. Be more careful with the bloody dog, and call me instead of just crying in your office.”</p><p>Anne nodded, her face flushing as Ann kissed her softly. </p><p>“Now, can I see this surprise or what?”</p><p>“Yes, yes, of course.”</p><p>Anne felt a strange sense of urgency as she led Ann and Tiny to the greenhouse. Why the hell did Ann bother with her anyway? All she did was say the wrong thing and do the wrong thing and lose the dog. Ann should leave her, she thought as they neared the greenhouse. If she had any sense, she’d be gone by now. At the very least, Ann liked Shibden and the family and having sex with her. Objectively, those were the things Anne could offer. She couldn’t think of anything else. Perhaps that was enough to outweigh her endless blunders?</p><p>“Here we are,” she said, opening the door with a broad flourish. Ann stepped inside, and Anne closed the door firmly behind them. “I - well, you see, you said how much you hate the winter and its grey-ness and all of that, so - well, I wanted to make you something that was vibrant and beautiful all year round. We can change out the plants in here, have anything you want. I thought it could be a nice project for us, as well. If we wanted to work together on it, get a bit dirty,” she joked. “Seriously, though, I - uh, I had this built because - because a bouquet of flowers is dead as soon as you cut them. These flowers are alive, and they’ll keep living, just like,” she swallowed, “like my love for you, Adney. It’s vibrant and alive and — and it grows every day.”</p><p>For a moment Ann turned in place, taking in everything and saying nothing; Anne was certain she hated it. Perhaps she should’ve gone a bit more traditional. Red roses, box of chocolates - that was simple and classic, why hadn’t she done that? Tiny sniffed her shoes as she shifted her weight anxiously awaiting her wife’s response. </p><p>Finally, Ann turned to her, tears welling in her eyes and a broad smile stretching across her face. She crashed into Anne, wrapping her arms around her and burying her face in her shoulder. For a long moment, she just held her close. When Ann finally pulled back to look at her, they were both smiling through tears.</p><p>“Do you like it?”</p><p>“Like it?” Ann asked, incredulous. “I adore it. Oh, Anne, my darling. This - Good Lord, this is amazing. You built this for me?”</p><p>“Well, Pickles built it,” Anne conceded, “but I did the planting, the potting and choosing what to have, all of that.”</p><p>“Anne.” Her voice was wistful, almost disbelieving. She looked at Anne in that old way, the way she used to look at her when she was young, when they first started at Crow Nest - like she couldn’t believe Anne was real, that they were speaking, that any of this was real. “Anne, I love you so much, I - oh my God, I love you.”</p><p>“I love you,” Anne said seriously.</p><p>“Do you remember,” Ann twirled a lock of Anne’s hair around her finger; her arms were draped over Anne’s shoulders, while Anne held her easily by the waist, “when we went to Crow Nest last month?”</p><p>“I do,” Anne said carefully; that night was mixed with the disappointment of losing her promotion and the ecstasy of their relentless lovemaking.</p><p>“You said you wanted to show me how much you love me.”</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>“This?” Ann nodded, her eyes roaming the greenhouse, “This is you showing me. This is incredible, Pony. No one cold be loved better than I am. In so many ways and so deeply. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again - you are everything, Pony. You’re more than a good shag.” Could she read Anne’s mind? “You’re amazing and kind and thoughtful and generous, and you treat me so well, Pony, I - I don’t even know what to say.”</p><p>Maybe if she kissed her, she wouldn’t cry, Anne thought. She brought their lips together in a slow, searching kiss. Ann’s hands cupped her face, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, moaning softly as their tongues tangled. It didn’t work, Anne found as they separated and Ann swiped her thumbs over her cheeks. </p><p>“I love you, Anne Lister, and you show me that all the time. Will you trust that and trust me?”</p><p>“Yes,” Anne said resolutely. “Yes, Adney, of course. I love you.”</p><p>Their lips met again, that low flame stoking between them. For a moment, Anne wondered if she could take her wife here in the greenhouse; that would be a first. She’d just slid her hand under Ann’s coat to find the soft swell of her breast, when she felt two small paws press into her leg. She pulled away, laughing as she looked down at Tiny, who was on her hind legs, looking up at her expectantly. Ann’s bright laughter filled the space.</p><p>“We haven’t forgotten you, baby,” Ann cooed. “Let’s go back inside.”</p><p>Grinning, Anne took her wife’s hand and her dog’s lead as they stepped into the the chilly air. Her heart swelled as their little family walked back to the house. She would do it, she told herself firmly; she would trust Ann. She would be a better partner. She would trust that their love flowed both ways, that Ann wasn’t looking for an exit, that their foundation was solid. And, more importantly, she’d keep an eye on that bloody dog.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!!</p><p>Based on “after dinner pothered about the loss of Tiny who had not returned with me from Halifax - we had given her up for lost when she came back about, before 9” - but I just have a screenshot from Twitter, without a user or a date. I’m sorry!</p><p>It was important to me to show Anne taking care of her wife in a way that’s not just physical. Plus she keeps fucking up and I wanted to give her a bit of a redemption. Like, Ann Walker has never done anything wrong in her life, and I stand by that, but Anne is a Total Dumbass. So I wanted to show the way they enjoy being together in that morning part, then the care Anne takes in building this gift; that’s what makes Anne a good partner, I think. I don’t know, does that make sense? I think Anne is actually a really sensitive and thoughtful partner, but she makes big, dumb mistakes. </p><p>Yes? No? Whatever?</p><p>Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Valentine’s Morning: Come Into Your Box</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anne’s body got so warm in the night. Ann adored it. It was easily one of the best things about sharing a bed with her,like having a heated blanket right underneath or behind her. She woke up slowly, relishing the firmness of Anne’s body below hers, the warmth of Anne’s legs bracketing her right leg, the comforting curl of her arm around Ann’s waist, as if, even in sleep, Anne needed her close. It’s the best, in Ann’s opinion. Stifling the urge to stretch, Ann pressed her lips to the underside of her wife’s jaw. </p><p>She was surprised Anne wasn’t awake yet, but she enjoyed the opportunity to study her profile in the wan light of dawn. Her lips were only slightly parted, and her restless eyes were hidden under soft eyelids. She had little lines at the corners of her eyes, which Ann adored; they deepened when she laughed or when she grinned that broad grin of hers. Her long nose stood proudly in the air, and Ann traced her fingertip over the slope. Anne stirred, smacking her lips; her arm tightened around Ann’s waist.</p><p>“Pony,” Ann whispered softly, trailing her hand down her wife’s cheek and along her jaw. “Are you awake?”</p><p>“Yes,” she murmured sleepily, her hips twisting under Ann’s. “Good morning.”</p><p>“Good morning.” Ann couldn’t help biting her lip and smiling at the gravelly, rough edge to her wife’s voice and the mindless patterns she was tracing over her hip. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”</p><p>“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.” Anne opened her eyes, a gentle smile spreading across her face.</p><p>Ann shifted, kneeling and cupping her wife’s handsome face in her hands; Anne’s strong hands wrapped around her hips. Ann was just about to bring their lips together, when Anne flipped them, grinning broadly as Ann’s back hit the sheets. </p><p>“Pony!” Ann giggled.</p><p>Anne took hold of her face and kissed her soundly, rolling her hips against Ann’s thigh and slipping her tongue past Ann’s lips. They broke apart, and Ann already knew there was no use resisting. Anne crashed their lips together again, one hand already trailing hungrily down her neck and over her breast. Ann moaned softly into her mouth, arching her back and slipping her hands under Anne’s t-shirt. Her skin was so warm, her muscles rippling under Ann’s hands, her insistent hips and hands and lips setting Ann aflame. Had this ravenous woman really been asleep just a few moments ago?</p><p>“Pony,” she moaned as Anne descended on her throat, “I’m - I’m supposed to be in charge. In the morning.”</p><p>“But Adney,” she slipped her hands under Ann’s nightshirt, tracing over her stomach and covering her breasts, “this is the best gift you could give me.”</p><p>“Then I guess,” she breathed, rolling her hips gently, “I’ll return - unh, return what I bought you.”</p><p>“That’d be okay,” Anne teased, pulling Ann’s shirt up to expose her breasts, “as long as I have you, my love.”</p><p>“Sap,” she breathed as Anne closed her lips around Ann’s breast. </p><p>After that, however, Ann couldn’t speak anymore. Anne was too good at this, too skilled at mixing soft kisses with gentle grazes of her teeth and wide swipes of her tongue. Their hips were rolling together; Ann couldn’t control hers. She was lost to Anne’s gentle ministrations - the methodical worship with her mouth and the wandering warmth of her hands. Humming softly, Ann threaded her fingers through her wife’s hair as she shifted to lavish Ann’s stomach with attention; she bracketed Anne’s torso with her legs, squeezing gently. </p><p>“Anne,” she sighed as Anne pressed her legs apart and peppered soft kisses along the insides of her thighs. </p><p>“You know,” Anne breathed, her hands exploring Ann’s chest and her lips sucking gently along her hips and thighs, “I love many things about you.” Ann moaned as her wife punctuated her sentence by dragging her tongue through her arousal. “But one of my favorite things, darling Adney.” Again, with the tongue - would Ann survive this? “Is that you won’t wear pants to bed.”</p><p>Ann laughed breathlessly, tugging gently at Anne’s hair. She couldn’t believe the layers to their lovemaking - it was hot, of course, but it was also playful and funny and intimate and silly. Anne traced her tongue through her folds, humming softly and flexing her hands over Ann’s hips. </p><p>“Pony,” she sighed, “you know, I - fuck, I used to wear - uh, pants - to - uh, to bed.”</p><p>“Did you?” Anne purred, lifting Ann’s legs over her shoulders.</p><p>“Now there’s no point,” Ann teased breathlessly; “with you in my bed.”</p><p>“<i>Your</i> bed, Miss Walker?” Anne’s glistening face appeared between her legs.</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>“Uh-huh,” Anne said sardonically, pressing her lips to the lowest point of Ann’s belly. “Let’s see about that.”</p><p>It was almost too much, the way Anne took her apart with every stroke of her tongue and press of her lips. She was too fucking good at this, Ann thought as the pleasure built in her gut. Anne’s strong hands held her hips, trailing up her ribs occasionally to find a breast or tweak a nipple. Her long nose nudged against her clit; her delicate lips pressing and sucking and kissing. Ann bit back a moan as Anne’s tongue probed her entrance, then slid inside. She dug her fingers into Anne’s hair, holding her head in place .</p><p>“Yes, baby,” she panted, “oh, fuck, Anne.”</p><p>A proud hum was her wife’s only response, and Ann started to feel her release loosing between her legs. Her hips jerked with the first wave; Anne pressed her hips down, closing her lips around Ann’s clit and sucking gently.</p><p>“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ann breathed, trying to hold off this powerful climax. “Pony, i - fuck, yes, right there, I - fuck, yes, yes, yes.”</p><p>The last word was more of a whine as she shot over the edge into the warm, tumultuous waters of her release. Anne was merciless, drawing wave after wave from between her legs, turning Ann into a shaking, mumbling, grasping mess. Just when she started to loosen her grip on Anne’s head, she felt another wave crash into her. She stretched taut, stuffing her fist in her mouth to keep from crying out. She didn’t know how long she trembled and shook under Anne’s gentle touch. When she finally stilled, she groaned in exhaustion. Vaguely, she could feel Anne pulling away and pressing her lips to her slick body. </p><p>“Holy shit, Pony,” she sighed, her eyes still closed. “Oh my God.”</p><p>”Happy Valentine’s Day, darling.” Anne’s breath was warm against her neck, her leg heavy over Ann’s, her fingers delicate as she traced shapeless patterns over Ann’s stomach. “I love you.”</p><p>“I love <i>you</i>,” Ann said emphatically. “Oh, Pony, do I love you.”</p><p>“Now, will you tell me what we’re doing today?”</p><p>Ann didn’t want to; she mostly wanted it to be a surprise. But. But she wasn’t quite ready to open her eyes yet, and she’d have to tell Anne eventually. Reaching out blindly, she rubbed her hand along her wife’s strong arm. </p><p>“First, I’m going to make love to my wife.” </p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>“As soon as I return to my body.”</p><p>“Oh,” Anne chuckled, “that good, huh?”</p><p>“Absolutely.”</p><p>“Then what?”</p><p>“Then we’re going into town.”</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>“For - well, I’ve signed us up for a yoga class.”</p><p>“Have you?” </p><p>Anne’s voice sounded surprised, and Ann suddenly worried she wasn’t pleased. She opened her eyes and turned to look at her handsome face; Anne kissed her quickly. </p><p>“Well, so I was thinking,” Ann started, staring at Anne’s hand on her belly and trying to find the right words, “about - uh, about - things I like to do that I could share with you. You do that with me, like, show me new stuff, and I want to - I want to show you some stuff that I like to do. Catherine and I used to go a fair amount, and - and I thought it would be fun to share that with you. That’s the first thing.”</p><p>“That sounds fun,” Anne said genuinely.</p><p>“Really?” Ann turned to face her.</p><p>“Yes. I’ve actually never done yoga.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Nope. You’ll be the expert.”</p><p>Ann grinned, tilting her chin; their lips met just for a moment before Anne pulled back with a lascivious grin.</p><p>“Will you be wearing those tight little pants?”</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>“Oh, Miss Walker,” Anne rolled on top of her, “this is very exciting.”</p><p>They kissed again, slowly and deeply; Ann had just reached her hand into Anne’s shorts when a small weight landed near their feet. They both looked to the end of the bed: Tiny, panting and jumping around. Groaning, Anne fell back onto the pillows.</p><p>“Adney,” she whined.</p><p>“Hold on,” Ann pecked her lips. “I’ll be right back.”</p><p>Hopping out of bed, she pulled her nightshirt down around her body; Tiny followed her as she eased out of the room. They trotted down to Marian’s room, and she knocked tentatively. </p><p>“What?” Marian called.</p><p>“It’s Ann.” </p><p>“Go away.”</p><p>“Little Ann.”</p><p>“Oh, come in.”</p><p>Ann opened the door, and Tiny ran inside to jump around her aunt’s legs. Marian laughed, toweling her wet hair; she was already dressed. </p><p>“Would you - uh, would you do me a favor?”</p><p>“Sure.” Marian stoooped to pet Tiny.</p><p>“Would you feed Tiny this morning? And let her out? Do you mind? I - uh, we -” how could she approach this? Asking Marian to watch her dog while she shagged her sister?</p><p>“A little wake-up call, huh?” Marian winked. “Yes, of course. You two do the same for Argus most days. Keep down, would you?”</p><p>Blushing, Ann chuckled and slipped out of the room. Anne was scribbling in her diary when she returned. She cleared her throat as she closed the door.</p><p>“There you are,” Anne smiled. “Where’s the baby?”</p><p>“Marian’s going to take her.” Ann climbed into bed, pulling Anne’s shorts over her hips. </p><p>“About time.” Anne pulled off own shirt, then Ann’s. “The things we do for Argus.”</p><p>“Be grateful,” Ann breathed, kneeling between Anne’s legs and running her hands up and down her muscular calves. “Maybe Tiny should sleep downstairs with Argus.”</p><p>“Maybe,” Anne hedged, arching her back as Ann pressed her lips to her stomach and breasts, “but I do - uh, I do like to have her - uh, you know, with us.”</p><p>“You love her,” Ann whispered into her neck before sucking at the skin softly. “Admit it.”</p><p>“Of course I do,” Anne murmured, rubbing Ann’s back gently.</p><p>“I love you, Pony.” Ann kissed her tenderly, grinding her hips and trailing a hand between her wife’s legs. “And how soft you are.”</p><p>“I’m not soft,” Anne protested weakly, lifting her hips into Ann’s wandering fingers. </p><p>“Yes you are.” Ann kissed her cheek, the underside of her jaw, the long column of her neck. “You’re a big softy.”</p><p>“Ann,” her wife whined. “No, I’m not.”</p><p>“Yes.” Ann circled her clit, drawing a gasp from her not-soft wife. “You are.”</p><p>“Adney.”</p><p>“That’s okay, Pony.” Ann strummed her clit faster, grinding her body against Anne’s. “I love that about you.” </p><p>Anne tangled her fingers in Ann’s hair, pulling her down for a sloppy kiss as their bodies moved together. She broke away as Ann pressed against her clit harder. </p><p>“How fucking hot are you?” Ann asked, awed. “You’re incredible, Anne Lister. Strong and soft and beautiful and mine.” She bit Anne’s shoulder lightly. “Mine, mine, mine.”</p><p>Anne was nodding, her face screwed up with pleasure as she rolled her hips urgently into Ann’s hand. Ann pressed her lips to her slick neck, grinning as her paradoxical wife shuddered below her. She was so perfect like this - free and uninhibited and totally unraveled by little Ann Walker. Ann couldn’t believe this was her real life.</p><p>“Oh, Ann,” she sighed as she opened her eyes. “Fuck.”</p><p>“Happy Valentine’s Day.”</p><p>Growling playfully, Anne caught her lips to kiss her fiercely. Ann traced her fingers along her wife’s strong jaw, pulling away with a smile.</p><p>“No more, Pony,” she warned. “We have to get ready.”</p><p>“Do we have to?”Anne groaned as Ann climbed out of bed and padded into the closet. “Let’s stay here all day.”</p><p>An hour later, they were driving to the yoga studio. It was easy enough to get Anne to follow directions, at least for Ann. It didn’t hurt that Ann knew how much her wife appreciated her leggings and slouchy yoga tank-tops; Ann was certainly grateful to see Anne in her own tight little bottoms and sweatshirt. She’d warned her wife about the top, but Anne was adamant. </p><p>The yoga studio was small and expensive; Ann liked the calm atmosphere and handsome instructor. He was one of those overly muscular men with intensely kind eyes and a soft voice; Ann had been in his class many times, because Catherine was nursing a major crush on him. Ann had signed them up for Adam’s easiest class; she wasn’t actually very good at yoga, but she did like to try. Adam made it simple, so she hoped even Anne could follow along. Plus, Anne was in great shape, wasn’t she? This should be easy, Ann thought as they spread out their mats. </p><p>And yet.</p><p>Oh, poor Anne. She wobbled and grunted, huffing in frustration every time she turned the wrong way or fell behind. Adam adjusted her stance a few times, and Ann could tell her wife was embarrassed. Her thick, grey sweatshirt was dark with sweat, sleeves pushed up to the elbows. As they stretched into a Reverse Warrior, Ann whispered to her. </p><p>“You’re doing great, Pony.”</p><p>“I’m going to fall over.”</p><p>Ann giggled, and Adam gently shushed them. The class went on, and Ann could feel that familiar calm flooding her body. Maybe they should do this more often; she started to daydream about lazy Saturday mornings in yoga, followed by sweaty sex in the chaumière or the car or, hell, the locker room. Then she heard her wife giggle. She shot her a look. Anne was biting her lip, her shoulders shaking in the attempt to stay quiet. Then she clued back into what Adam was saying. </p><p>“Drop your knees. Come into your box.”</p><p>She turned to her wife, reaching out to nudge her shoulder. </p><p>“Stop.”</p><p>Anne shook her head, following the moves and shaking with silent laughter. They dropped to their knees again, and Ann braced for it. Adam’s serious, melodious voice.</p><p>“Come into your box.”</p><p>Anne was still laughing as they went through the cool down. When Ann looked over to shush her during Bridge Pose, Anne thrust her hips suggestively and winked. Flushing, Ann closed her eyes. Anne’s snickering trailed off, and Ann felt her fingertips brushing against her wife’s as they moved into Rejuvenation. She heard rustling, then Anne’s strong hand covered hers. Ann didn’t dare open her eyes; instead she just enjoyed the serenity of the moment and the love of Anne Lister. </p><p>“I really liked that,” Anne said as the class broke up.</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Ann laughed, sitting up. “Come into your box.”</p><p>“That was funny!” She insisted, standing and picking up her mat. Ann shook her head as she tried to fold it. “What?”</p><p>“You’re supposed to roll it, Pony.”</p><p>“Oh.” Ann rolled both of their mats, straightening to find her wife slack-jawed, nearly drooling. “Your ass,” she hissed, “Good Lord, Adney, you’ve got a good one.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Ann teased, “let’s go home before you come into <i>your</i> box.”</p><p>Anne’s boisterous laughter carried them all the way way to the car.</p><p>“That was fun, Adney, seriously. Let’s do it again.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Yes, really.” Anne took her hand over the center console. “Though I suppose I wasn’t as good at it as I thought I would be.”</p><p>“You were a bit wobbly,” Ann teased.</p><p>“Never heard you complain!” Anne squeezed her hand playfully. “What’s next? You have two more hours left before I take over the festivities.”</p><p>“We’re going to the chaumière.”</p><p>“Are we?” Anne purred. “For something dirty?”</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>Anne was practically begging her by the time they crossed the threshold into the cozy little studio. </p><p>“<i>What</i> are we doing, Adney? Is it something dirty? Can I go get the strap? Do you have it here? What are we doing?”</p><p>“Calm down,” Ann giggled. “We have a very serious schedule.”</p><p>“Do we?” Anne wrapped her arms around Ann’s waist. </p><p>“Yes, first, I’d like to paint you.”</p><p>“Really?” Anne breathed.</p><p>“If you don’t mind,” Ann shrugged with a tilt of her head. “You’ve never sat for a proper portrait for me.”</p><p>“I’d love to.”</p><p>“Then, I’m going to give you your gifts.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Then, we’re going to fuck.”</p><p>“Oh, Adney.” Anne dipped to catch her lips, passion bubbling up between the two of them. “This is very exciting.”</p><p>They shuffled around, with Anne finally reclining on the loveseat. She draped one arm along the back of the couch and crossed her legs at the knee. Ann kissed her gently, then peeled off her own leggings and top and stepped into the old pair of Anne’s boxers and paint-stained sweatshirt she kept for just this purpose. </p><p>“Ann,” she groaned.</p><p>“This is how I paint, Pony, do you mind?”</p><p>“No,” Anne drawled, “but why?”</p><p>Ann picked up her pencil, intent on getting at least a few sketches done. The likelihood that she could actually paint successfully with Anne Lister spread before her? Slim to none. At least now, she could make some references to revisit later. She pinned a fresh paper to her easel and started to draw.</p><p>“Your boxers make me feel a bit more free. Partly because they’re comfortable,” she chuckled, “but they also remind me of you. How much faith you have in me and how brave you make me feel. I don’t know. I just like it.”</p><p>“It’s insanely hot.” Anne shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “How long do I have to suffer through this?”</p><p>“At least forty-five more minutes.”</p><p>Anne groaned, but she didn’t complain. Ann worked quickly, sketching several versions of Anne’s pose, a few close-ups of her hands, her legs, her neck, her face. By the time she set her pencil down, she had a short stack of reference sketches and a wet pair of boxers.</p><p>“Adney, are you - uh, are you done?”</p><p>“Yes,” Ann said with a proud smile. “Are you ready for your gifts?”</p><p>“Is it you getting in that bed?” Anne’s fingers were drumming impatiently on her knee.</p><p>“Not yet,” Ann teased. “Soon enough.” She dug out the two boxes she’d stashed here, then knelt at her wife’s feet and offered the smaller one first. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Anne.”</p><p>Quirking an eyebrow, Anne unwrapped the pink paper, revealing a black velvet box. She looked up at Ann as she eased it open. Ann’s heart raced in her chest as she studied the contents: a pair of sterling silver cufflinks, delicately engraved with the Lister coat of arms. She’d thought long and hard about this gift, and she’d noticed how dashing Anne looked in her French cut shirts, the added confidence they seemed to give her, and the carefully guarded disappointment that she didn’t have more cufflinks. It was just the one pair; she wouldn’t wear the ones that Captain Lister had given her. When her wife finally looked up - her handsome, proud, laughed-during-yoga wife - she was beaming through her tears. </p><p>“Oh, Ann.”</p><p>“Do you like them?”</p><p>By way of answer, Anne cupped Ann’s face with her free hand, the other still clutching the velvet box. She smiled softly before dipping her head to kiss her, softly but meaningfully. Ann put her hands on her wife’s knees, gripping them gently as Anne poured her emotions into the kiss. She knew her wife spoke just as well with her body as she did with her words. Ann pulled away to swipe an escaped tear from Anne’s cheek.</p><p>“Thank you, darling.”</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Ann grinned proudly. She handed over the next box. “Now, this - if you don’t like it, that’s okay. I won’t - uh, I won’t mind. It’s just an idea.”</p><p>Anne set her cufflinks down gingerly then slipped the paper from the other box. This one made Ann a little more nervous - she’d gotten one of those strap-on add-ons. She wanted Anne to get as much direct pleasure from their use of the strap as she did; she fantasized about sending her wife into oblivion while riding her cock or thrusting her hips behind her. This little round silicone, Maria had suggested, would facilitate that. Ann bit her lip as her wife turned the box over in her hand, examining the directions. </p><p>“This is interesting.”</p><p>“Like I said,” Ann rushed, “we do not have to use it. It’s whatever you want. I - uh, I thought it would - you know, do what you like - not, um, not inside, it’s just - you know it’s just like - well, Maria said -”</p><p>“You spoke to Maria?” Anne asked, a small smile playing at her lips.</p><p>“Well, yeah,” Ann chuckled; “I thought of this, and I - you know, I liked her so much, and she’s so easy to talk to, and - well, it helps that she knows you.”</p><p>“Really?” Anne was grinning now, opening the box.</p><p>“Yeah, she, uh, she said there were different, um, set-ups of these? You know? Like, the ridges, or whatever.” Ann blushed and shook her head. “She said, um, if she remembered, uh, correctly, that this would work.”</p><p>“Did she?” Anne was turning the silicone over in her hands, examining every inch of it. “Well, I guess she would,” Anne swallowed, “know the geography.”</p><p>“Have you - uh, have you used one of these before?”</p><p>“No,” Anne said thoughtfully. “It’s strange, you know. A lot of my past partners, they - they did not think about this step. If that makes sense.”</p><p>“Yes,” Ann breathed, her heart twisting at the thought of all the women Anne pleased who had no concern for her at all. “We can toss it if you don’t like it. Forget it, let’s -”</p><p>“No!” Anne said quickly, and now Ann could see how wide her pupils were. “Let’s - uh - do you have the strap? Is it out here?”</p><p>Nodding, Ann scrambled to her feet and retrieved the strap, which she’d hidden out here for this precise moment. Anne fumbled over the two pieces of silicone, one bright pink, the other dark black; Ann had asked Maria for a matching pink, but she’d said they didn’t come in pink. She could see Anne was struggling to fit the black ring to the base of the strap; she had to stifle a giggle. </p><p>“Harder than it looks,” Anne chuckled as she finally married the two. “There we are. Not exactly sexy, I guess, but, uh - shall we try it out?”</p><p>The sight of Anne doing this practical, intimate task? And now holding her cock so casually? Inviting Ann to bed like a lift of her eyebrows and a smirk on her lips? Ann couldn’t speak; she just nodded, letting Anne take her hand and lift her to her feet. Anne kissed her gently, walking her back toward the bedroom. When the backs of her knees hit the mattress, Ann sat down, tugging Anne’s leggings down.</p><p>“Oh, Adney,” Anne growled, pulling her sweatshirt over Ann’s head. “We have <i>got</i> to talk about you wearing my clothes.”</p><p>“What about it?” Ann ran her hands down her wife’s strong thighs, up her back, dipping into the back of her tight shorts. </p><p>“It,” Anne nudged her further back on the bed, “is,” she hooked her fingers in the boxers around Ann’s hips, “insanely,” she kissed Ann’s belly, “sexy.”</p><p>“Pony,” she breathed as Anne tossed the strap onto the bed and laid on her belly between her legs. “Holy shit.”</p><p>Grinning, Anne kissed the insides of her thighs, then raised up on her knees and ripped off her sweatshirt. In just her sports bra and tight shorts, Anne was an impressive specimen; Ann licked her lips just looking at her. </p><p>“I’m feeling impatient,” Anne said as she dropped back between Ann’s legs, “but I don’t want to rush.”</p><p>“Rush, Pony,” Ann begged, unclasping her own bra and wiggling her hips as Anne pulled off her panties. “Please.”</p><p>“No, no, no, Miss Walker. It’s so much better if we wait.” Anne inhaled deeply, then pressed her lips to Ann’s core. “Patience is a virtue, my love.”</p><p>Ann groaned as Anne started to unravel her for the second time that day; her lips teased her clit, her tongue lined her folds, her soft moans and hums vibrating against Ann’s center. Ann wrapped her hand in her wife’s hair, tugging her upward; compliant as usual, Anne traced a careful path of kisses up Ann’s belly, over her hips, across her ribs, finally resting at her breasts. </p><p>“Ann,” she moaned as she dragged her tongue along the underside of her breast. “I can’t tell you how much I want you.”</p><p>“I know,” Ann panted, arching her back into Anne’s mouth. “I know. I know.”</p><p>“The thought,” she dragged her lips along Ann’s throat before hovering at her ear, “of coming while I’m inside you? I mean -”</p><p>“I know. I know. I know.” </p><p>It was all she could think of to say. They’d done it a handful of times, Anne shuddering while still buried inside her, but never quite from the act itself. This would be different though, or at least Ann hoped it would be. Ann wondered if they could manage it in unison.</p><p>“Fuck,” she whined as Anne thrust two fingers inside. “Pony.”</p><p>“You feel so good, baby,” Anne breathed in her ear, moving evenly but firmly. “I can’t tell you how wet I am right now.”</p><p>“Anne.”</p><p>“You’re good at yoga,” Anne panted, stretching her with a third finger. “Your tight little ass? Your tiny little body? All that spandex.”</p><p>“Anne.”</p><p>Her voice was higher, breathier, needier. She thought she might die if she didn’t come soon. As always, Anne read her mind; she pressed urgent kisses to Ann’s neck while rutting her hand between her legs, flicking her thumb over Ann’s clit. </p><p>“Anne!” She cried, her body curling forward as she held onto Anne for dear life. She shuddered and cursed and gasped her way through her release. “Fuck, Pony - right - yes, please, I - yes, yes, yes.”</p><p>“There she is,” Anne purred, stroking her gently. “Miss Yes.”</p><p>“What?” Ann sighed, collapsing back into the sheets.</p><p>“You used to always say that when you came.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Yes, yes, yes,” Anne teased, hopping to her feet and slipping her shorts from her hips. “It’s cute.”</p><p>“Oh, I -” Ann flushed; she’d never noticed. </p><p>“Hey, don’t be like that.” Anne took her chin gently. “It’s adorable, and I love it. I love watching you come, no matter what dirty little thing you’re saying.”</p><p>Ann bit her lip as her wife fit the harness around her hips; Anne twisted her hips experimentally. Ann crawled forward, slipping her hand between the loose harness and Anne’s body.</p><p>“I think it’s supposed to -” she adjusted the base until it lined up with Anne’s clit, “like that.”</p><p>“Oh, fuck,” Anne breathed, her grip on Ann’s bicep tightening. “That was hot.”</p><p>“What?” She looked up, tightening the harness easily; if she had the time, she might take the time to be impressed with her progress on this front. </p><p>“You’re just - fuck, Ann, when did you get so good at this?”</p><p>“At what?”</p><p>“At -” Ann chuckled and looked away, “at setting this up? At getting that little thing to - you know, to be in place? It’s - it’s like this.” Anne leaned forward, guiding Ann back to the pillows. “It’s like when you buy me clothes.” She kissed her teasingly. “Or you when you tie my tie.” Ann leaned back, her arms around her wife’s shoulders, her knees bent and feet flat on the bed. “Or when you put my fucking cock on me.”</p><p>“Pony,” she drawled, breathless and needy. “Come on.”</p><p>“Okay.” Anne sat back on her heels, dragging her fingers through Ann’s arousal. “Have we got -” Ann nodded to the nightstand. “I love you,” Anne chuckled, reaching for the bottle of lubricant. “You’re so dirty.”</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“You’re - it’s a good thing,” Anne said quickly, absentmindedly coating the strap with liquid. “You’re - like, you have the same libido that I do. You want it as much as I do.”</p><p>“I do,” Ann breathed, hooking her feet behind her wife’s back and gently pulling her forward. “I really, really do.”</p><p>“I love it,” Anne husked, aligning her cock with Ann’s entrance then dropping to her forearms. “I love you.”</p><p>Anne kissed her softly, driving her hips forward slowly. It was overwhelming, being filled and covered and surrounded by Anne like this. Ann broke the kiss to gasp as Anne’s hips met the insides of her thighs. Anne started a slow, deep rhythm; Ann pressed her hips back with every thrust. For the first time perhaps ever, Anne’s hips faltered. </p><p>“Holy shit,” she breathed, stilling her movements. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“It’s so good,” Anne said reverently, her hips starting again; she flicked her eyes between Ann’s face and the pillow next to her, as if she were focusing entirely on the sensation between their legs. “Fuck, Adney, it’s so good.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Ann pulled her closer, tightening her legs around her hips. “You like it?”</p><p>“Yes,” Anne hissed, speeding up. “Fuck, yes, Adney.”</p><p>For a few moments, neither of them spoke, just moving together in perfect harmony. Anne wrapped one arm under her back, pressing their bodies together; the friction and slide of their slick skin was exquisite. Ann worried her skin might actually light on fire, she was so hot. They traded sloppy, desperate kisses, sometimes on the lips, sometimes on the cheek or the neck or wherever they could reach. Ann’s arms grappled over her wife’s back, her hands hooking around her broad shoulders as she filled her over and over again.</p><p>“Right there,” Ann cried, as Anne found that perfect spot inside her. “Fuck, Anne.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Anne panted, her eyes closed tightly in concentration. “You’re so tight, Adney. I -”</p><p>“I know, I’m -”</p><p>“I’m going to -”</p><p>“Hold on,” Ann breathed. “Can you -”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Anne nodded frantically, squeezing a hand between them to flick Ann’s clit with her thumb. “You’re so wet, Ann, oh my -”</p><p>“Pony!” She cried, feeling her core clench in anticipation of her release. “I’m so close.”</p><p>“Wait for me.” Anne twisted her hips, driving into her with force. “I’m almost there.”</p><p>It was all she could to do hold onto Anne’s slick skin, locking her legs around her waist, moaning and crying out with every powerful thrust. Anne was relentless in her movements, merciless as she pistoned her hips and flicked her clit. It was a good thing they’d come to the chaumière, Ann thought vaguely; her cries were impossibly loud now, and the headboard was thumping steadily against the wall. Ann’s hips jerked with the first wave of her release; she could feel Anne getting sloppy in her movements, her grunts getting lower and needier as she rutted into Ann with shallow, hard thrusts.</p><p>“I can’t - Pony, I - I can’t wait.” She tried to focus on driving her hips back into Anne’s cock, trying to get the base to press against her just right; she didn’t really know what she was doing, but Anne did seem to be enjoying it. She begged, “please, Pony, please.”</p><p>“I’m right there,” Anne said through gritted teeth. “Come with me, baby. I love you, Ann Walker. Come with me.”</p><p>Had there ever been a better string of words? Ann surrendered to her climax, calling out wantonly and shuddering around Anne’s cock. Her wife let out a choked moan above her, her hips juddering as she came, which only augmented the sensation of the cock between Ann’s legs. They trembled together, whispering softly as their bodies continued to move together by instinct.</p><p>“Yes, Pony.”</p><p>“You feel so good.”</p><p>“Right there, I -”</p><p>“Baby, oh, fuck.”</p><p>“I know, I -”</p><p>“You’re doing so well.”</p><p>“I love you so much.”</p><p>“Oh, <i>God</i>,” Anne groaned, falling forward with a final shudder. Her heavy breathing filled Ann’s ear. “Holy shit, Ann.”</p><p>“I know,” she whined, her core still clenching around the strap. “Fucking hell, Pony.”</p><p>“Seriously.”</p><p>“Good Lord,” Ann chuckled, pressing her lips to the side of Anne’s face that was available to her. “How was that?”</p><p>“Ann,” her wife said sharply, forcing herself up on her knees with a grimace. “Are you kidding?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>Anne bit her lip, shaking her head and easing the strap gently from her wife; Ann watched her slip the harness off then fall to the bed next to her. She laid a flat palm against Ann’s belly and looked at her seriously.</p><p>“That was - don’t be angry - quite possibly the best sex I’ve ever had.”</p><p>“What?” It was no more than a breath; Ann could barely believe what she’d heard. Surely not. </p><p>“I don’t - well,” Anne said thoughtfully, rubbing her hand up and down her wife’s slick stomach, “I think we’ve had better, longer sex. You know? Like, several rounds, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ann chuckled, rolling over to face her wife; she wiped a tear from her handsome face. Why was she crying? Anne had said once it happened when she came really hard. </p><p>“The strength of that orgasm just now,” Anne said slowly, carefully, her dark eyes boring into Ann’s, “was maybe the most powerful I’ve ever had.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>In her typical fashion, her wife was still thinking analytically, Ann could tell. She wouldn’t be offended if this wasn’t the best they’d ever had, but the fact that Anne put it in the top ranking? Ann’s chest swelled with pride.</p><p>“I’ll have to think about it,” Anne said sincerely. “I think it was though. I’ve never - I mean I’ve never gotten it to happen like that. Not from - you know, from just that.”</p><p>“Right,” Ann grinned.</p><p>“Usually, it’s like, move it around or loosen the harness, or - you know?”</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>“But to come just from the act of burying my cock inside you?” Anne shook her head in disbelief, seemingly unaware of the intense, sexual undertone in her voice. “That was kind of amazing. Like, I can’t believe it.”</p><p>“Happy Valentine’s Day, Pony,” Ann said proudly, tilting her chin.</p><p>Anne kissed her soundly, curling her hand around Ann’s hip and biting her bottom lip gently before pulling away. </p><p>“But Adney,” she sighed, “I have to rest, good heavens.”</p><p>“That’s fine,” Ann chuckled, pushing Anne onto her back curling into her chest; she draped an arm over her wife’s narrow waist and laid her head on her shoulder. “I’m so glad you liked it.”</p><p>“Loved it,” Anne said definitively. “And I love you.”</p><p>“I love you,” she replied sleepily, already feeling the afterglow start to claim her. </p><p>Just as she started to drift away, Anne squeezed her waist playfully.</p><p>“That was a perfect gift, Adney, because it allowed me to,” then her wife’s low voice transformed into that of Adam the yoga instructor: “come into your box.”</p><p>Ann laughed and smacked her wife gently on the stomach, grateful to share a love with someone who was somehow endlessly kind and impossibly sexy and infuriatingly funny.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>It’s super hot where I live right now, so I haven’t been able to run like I normally do, sooooo I’ve been doing yoga on this little app. When I tell you this woman says “come into your box” a dozen times? And I laugh every single time? I am 100% serious. Unfortunately, you all have to deal with my childish jokes. If anybody has a (cost-friendly) yoga app or site they use that <i>doesn’t</i> have hilarious innuendos, let me know. </p><p>I don’t know. It’s just filthy. Not based on anything except my dirty yoga thoughts. Hope you’re having a great day!</p><p>Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Valentine’s Night: Soft Tops and Cozy Bottoms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>why is this chapter so LONG<br/>I don’t know. Here we are.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What now?” Ann asked as they dressed a few hours later.</p><p>“Well, if I can walk,” she laughed as she laced up her boots, “we can go back to the house.”</p><p>    “Okay.” Ann wrapped her scarf around her neck. </p><p>    “I was going to show you the greenhouse about now, but I spoiled the surprise. I couldn’t wait.”</p><p>    “I think it’s sweet,” Ann grinned as she pressed her lips to Anne’s cheek, “plus, I’m hungry.”</p><p>    “Right, so here’s the plan.” They stepped out into the chilly afternoon. “I’m going to make you lunch. I was thinking chicken soup or beef stroganoff or something similarly warm.”</p><p>    “Uh-huh.”</p><p>    “Then I want to just hang out. Is that boring?” Anne shot a quick look to her wife. “It’s been a while since we just sat in the parlor and enjoyed ourselves. Maybe we could play backgammon? Or just read and sketch on the couch? I - this is dumb. I’ll think of something else.”</p><p>    “Pony!” Ann admonished. “That’s not dumb at all. I love that.”</p><p>    “Do you?” She looked down at her with a smile. “I was just - I was thinking that it would be nice to just be together. You know? When I think of the night I knew I loved you, that’s how we were. Do you remember?”</p><p>    “Of course, Pony,” Ann chuckled. “I drew you that picture, and you cried.”</p><p>    “It was more than that,” she scoffed. “We were together, just existing together, and you saw me in a way that - a way that no one else ever had. Valentine’s Day is about love, and part of our love is just being together. It’s not all shagging.”</p><p>    “Is it not?” Ann looked up at her in alarm. “Oh, I’ve got to go-”</p><p>    She made to pull away, and Anne twirled her back into her arms, kissed her soundly, then pulled back with a low growl. Giggling, Ann looked up at her, and that was it. That was the exact moment Anne was thinking about. Just being together was a rush. Just holding her and staring into her eyes and breathing the same air as Ann Walker. That was all she wanted. At least for now.</p><p>    “Come on, Adney,” Anne pulled her inside. “What’s the decision? What can I make for you?”</p><p>    “I think just soup is good.” </p><p>    They started to unwrap their winter clothes, hanging them dutifully by the back door. Tiny bounded up to inspect their feet and legs.</p><p>    “Hi, baby,” Ann cooed, “how has your day been?”</p><p>    Shaking her head, Anne started cooking with a grin. She puttered around the kitchen while Ann interrogated their dog. Anne supposed she could’ve opened a can of soup, but this was Valentine’s Day, damn it! Her wife deserved homemade, and Anne would deliver. Not to mention, this was another reminder of the start of their relationship. Anne started to feel nostalgic as Ann hopped on the counter. </p><p>    “This is nice,” Anne purred, stealing a quick kiss. “Like at Crow Nest.”</p><p>    “Is it?” Marian’s voice came from behind her; Anne sighed. “Will we be getting any of the fruits of your labor?”</p><p>    “I don’t think so,” Anne said haughtily, returning to her work. </p><p>    “Why not?”</p><p>    “Well, it’s two o’clock in the afternoon,” she answered flatly, “so I hope you’ve already eaten.”</p><p>    “I have,” Marian sighed. “I’m meeting Thomas later.”</p><p>    “Didn’t ask.”</p><p>    Ann nudged her in the shoulder. Clicking her tongue, Anne rubbed her arm as if it hurt. </p><p>    “What will you all be doing?” Ann asked Marian.</p><p>    Anne tuned them out, trying to hear as little as of her sister’s sex life as possible. She knew Ann and Marian talked about these things, but she preferred not to. Picturing Thomas and Marian going at it was not exactly her idea of a good time. Luckily, she could busy herself over the stove. </p><p>    “Anne won’t tell me what we’re doing tonight,” Ann said pointedly.</p><p>    “It’s not that.” She turned around, leaning against the counter to face her sister; Ann ran a hand along her lower back and up to her shoulderblades. “We’re going out to dinner. Nothing special.”    </p><p>    “Turn down the romance,” Marian teased. </p><p>    “Oh,” Anne huffed, “it’s just - you know, we don’t need to do something big and crazy to prove we love each other. Just being together is enough.”</p><p>    “Sure,” Marian rolled her eyes and left the room.</p><p>    Anne couldn’t stop thinking about Marian’s words as they migrated to the dining room, and Ann tucked in to her meal. Was this a stupid idea? Had she miscalculated this entire afternoon? Ann was probably disappointed, wasn’t she?She’d thought doing less was better, but now that seemed glaringly foolish. She barely heard her wife’s voice until she squeezed her wrist gently.    </p><p>    “Pony?”</p><p>    “What?” Anne shook her head, as if banishing that train of thought.</p><p>“What are you thinking about?”</p><p>“I wonder if you’re disappointed.”</p><p>“I’m not.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” Anne narrowed her eyes, trying to assess her honesty. Ann was so sweet she likely wouldn’t tell her if she were disappointed. “You can tell me. If you want to do something else. I have a plan for this evening.”</p><p>”I think it’s lovely,” Ann said sincerely. “Don’t start on that doubting thing, Pony. We just went down that road, literally yesterday. I would be happy to watch paint dry with you, okay?” She slurped her soup loudly, making Anne laugh. “Okay? I love you.”</p><p>”Okay,” Anne sighed with relief. “I love you. And I do have something planned for tonight.”</p><p>“I trust you,” Ann teased, as if she didn’t mean it.</p><p>“I do!”</p><p>“I bet.”</p><p>“Ann!”</p><p>“Just a joke,” she laughed, standing and kissing Anne on the top of the head. “I’ll meet you in the parlor.”</p><p>Anne passed through the living room, accidentally rousing her dozing aunt. </p><p>    “Antsy!” She called. “Get back in here.”</p><p>    “Yes?” Anne said sheepishly. </p><p>    “Skipped out on church this morning,” Aunt Anne said casually. “Didn’t bother to tell me.”</p><p>    “Honestly, I forgot it’s Sunday.”</p><p>    “I’m sure.”</p><p>    “Really! I forgot, and Adney was in charge of the morning, so - so I just didn’t think about it.”</p><p>    “Blaming poor Little Ann,” her aunt scolded. “You’re an adult, Anne. You can remember what day of the week it is.”</p><p>    “You’re right. I should’ve - I’m sorry.”</p><p>    “It’s okay,” Aunt Anne smiled broadly. “I’m just teasing.”</p><p>    “Aunt!”</p><p>    Aunt Anne shrugged innocently, just as Ann entered the room.</p><p>    “I can’t get any respect in this house,” Anne grumbled as her wife wrapped an arm around her waist. </p><p>    “Always the same thing with her isn’t it?” Ann asked Aunt Anne. “Exhausting.”</p><p>    “I don’t know how you stand it,” Aunt Anne chuckled, squeezing Anne’s wrist as they passed. </p><p>    “Disloyal,” Anne hissed in her wife’s ear as they got into the parlor, pulling her closer playfully.</p><p>    “Is that right?” Ann grinned, pulled Anne in by the front of her sweatshirt.</p><p>    “Oh yeah,” she husked, bending down to kiss her wife. Then she got a whiff of herself. “Oh, hell.”</p><p>    “What?” Ann was still smiling that seductive little smile, her hands still wrapped in the thick fabric of Anne’s sweatshirt. </p><p>    “I smell like - God, Adney, I smell like sweat and sex.”</p><p>    “Sounds nice,” Ann leaned in, catching her lips quickly. </p><p>    “No, I - I think I’d better shower.”    </p><p>    Ann hummed, pushing her away gently and pouting. For a moment, Anne considered tossing her over her shoulder and ravishing her in the shower. No, she thought, better save it. They’d just had a rather explosive time in the chaumière, hadn’t they? Best to wait. On the other hand, it wasn’t an endangered resource, was it? Anne decided to compromise.</p><p>    “Come with me,” she breathed, leaning in to catch her wife’s lips.</p><p>    “Yeah?” </p><p>    “Yeah.”</p><p>    Giggling and holding hands, they snuck up to their bedroom. As soon as the door closed, she pounced - tearing off her wife’s clothes and walking her backward to the bathroom. Ann tugged off her leggings, her foul-smelling sweatshirt, her sticky bra; their naked bodies collided as if it had been days, not mere hours, since they’d made love. </p><p>    “I can’t get enough of you,” Anne breathed, tilting her head to deepen the kiss.</p><p>    She felt frantic, wrapping one arm around her wife’s waist and trailing the other up to her breast; she spun them around, pressed Ann back into the cool wall, grinding her body against Ann’s. </p><p>    “Pony,” she whispered, angling her hips up, “please.”</p><p>    A thrill raced down her spine at the sudden urgency of her wife’s words. Maybe it was the holiday. Maybe it was the nudity. Maybe it was the indescribable sensation of Ann’s soft body pressed against hers. It didn’t matter, either way, because Anne was already consumed by desire. She molded her mouth to Ann’s, slotting her thigh neatly between hers, fitting her breast in the palm of her hand. Ann was pulling at her, grappling across her back with such force Anne though she might tear her skin. The thought alone made Anne growl, deep in her throat. </p><p>    “Adney.”</p><p>    It was all she could manage, breathless and desperate as she was. Their hands trailed downward in unison, slipping between each other’s legs; they gasped together at finding and being found.</p><p>    “Pony,” her wife whimpered.</p><p>    “I know,” she grinned, burying her face in Ann’s neck as their bodies rolled together. She slid two fingers between Ann’s wet folds, groaning as Ann bit into her neck. “Oh, fuck, Adney.”</p><p>    There were no more words, only circling fingers and heavy breathing and insistent, needy hips. Anne trailed her lips across her wife’s neck, reveling in the pressure building between her legs. She felt her release rising quickly - Ann was too bloody good at this - and she moved against Ann’s clit with force. </p><p>    “Wait,” Ann breathed, “you - you - you have to go first.”</p><p>    “What?”</p><p>    “If you,” Ann was still rolling her hips into Anne’s touch, “come first, you can still - do me, right?”</p><p>    “Yes,” Anne answered slowly.</p><p>    “I can’t - if I- if I’m first, I-I’ll -”</p><p>    Smiling softly, Anne bent to catch her wife’s lips, focusing on the sensation between her own thighs as she moved against Ann’s core lazily. The presence of mind Ann had - to think of this? Anne couldn’t be more delighted in the pragmatic, dirty turn of her wife’s thoughts. Perhaps she had been a good influence on little Ann Walker.</p><p>    “Ann,” she squeaked, her voice so high she really should be embarrassed, “yes, right - yes, harder, I - oh!”</p><p>    She cut herself off, a strangled sort of sound escaping her lips as the first wave crashed into her. Not so lazy anymore, she flicked her thumb urgently over Ann’s clit, curling her fingers just so, hoping to send Ann into oblivion with her. They nearly made it; if not quite perfect unison, it was certainly close. It was certainly good, Anne thought as they shuddered and jerked together. Standing up in the bathroom after that impressive romp in the chaumière. She kissed her wife sloppily as they stilled. Yeah, still good.</p><p>    “What’d you say?” Ann asked as they parted.</p><p>    “What? Oh - nothing.”</p><p>    From the smirk on her face, Anne knew her wife didn’t believe her. Oh, what bliss and what torture to be known so well.</p><p>    Nearly an hour later, they found themselves back in the parlor, happily ensconced on the sofa in soft tops and cozy bottoms. Anne had come down first, having showered with her usual efficiency, but Ann had insisted on washing and drying her hair. By Anne’s calculation, they had ninety-two minutes before they needed to go back upstairs to dress for the evening’s activity. </p><p>    She set down her book and leaned back against the arm of the couch. Ann was leaning against the opposite arm, her bare legs sliding enticingly against Anne’s sweats, her face scrunched up in concentration as she worked on her sketch pad. This was exactly what Anne had wanted for Valentine’s - the easy, simple pleasure of being with the one she loved. She’d had so many lonely, pathetic February 14ths, and she’d spent nearly as many chasing after some girl or other, vainly searching for this exact kind of peace. She sighed, absorbing every inch of the contentment of Ann Walker’s love.</p><p>    “Stop staring at me,” Ann said without looking up.</p><p>    “What! I was -” Anne huffed, picking her book back up, “I was actually thinking rather romantic thoughts about you.”</p><p>    “No, Pony, I’m not wearing a bra,” Ann said dryly, a smirk playing at her lips. </p><p>    “Ann! I was - I wasn’t thinking that at all.”</p><p>    “I have got underwear on, though, to answer your next question.”</p><p>    Grunting in annoyance, Anne buried her head in her book. Nobody gave her any respect around here, did they? <i>Yes</i>, she was known to be a bit - rakish - sure, that was the word - but she could also be bloody romantic! Ann was always calling her a sap. Besides, she didn’t need to ask if Ann was wearing a bra or panties; she could tell the moment she walked in the room. She fumed for nearly an hour - as if she didn’t know the <i>exact</i> difference between Ann’s breasts with a bra and without! As if she wouldn’t be able to tell in a moment if Ann’s core was one piece of fabric away or two! The audacity. No, she was given no respect at all. </p><p>    “Now you’re sulking,” Ann teased, flipping her sketchbook closed, and crawling forward.</p><p>    “I’m not.”</p><p>    “You are.” Ann’s delicate fingers curled around her book, easing it down to reveal her smiling face. “Why is my Pony pouting?”</p><p>    “I’m not.”</p><p>    “You are!” Ann was grinning, teasing her. “What is it?”</p><p>    “You know sometimes I can be romantic.”</p><p>    “I know that, Pony.” Ann knelt over one of her legs, tracing a hand down Anne’s cheek. “Of course, I know that.”</p><p>    “Just now,” she said haughtily, “you accused me of looking at your chest, when I was actually being very poetic.”</p><p>    “You are such a child,” Ann laughed, kissing her soundly then dropping her head onto her chest. “Oh, I do love you, Anne Lister, but you are a lot of work.”</p><p>    “Hush,” Anne laughed, her foul mood lifting now that Ann was in her arms. “Do you want your gift or not?”</p><p>    “You’ve already given me my gift,” Ann shifted, leaning her back against Anne’s front, toying with her hands. “And I love it.” She kissed Anne’s knuckles. “Thank you.”</p><p>    “You think I got you one gift?” Anne scoffed. “Adney, please.”</p><p>    “You got me a whole bloody greenhouse, darling. I think that counts as two.”</p><p>    “Nope,” Anne said slowly, reaching into the pocket of her sweatpants. “I got you this, and I’ll tell you why once you open it.”</p><p>    Anne watched over her wife’s shoulder as she unwrapped the thick silver paper, dropping it carelessly to the floor to reveal a small, round box. She eased it open, revealing an amber ring. Anne had selected it with care, and her heart raced in her chest for Ann’s reaction.</p><p>    “It’s gorgeous,’” she whispered, turning the box to catch the light. “Oh, Pony, I love it.”</p><p>    “So, here’s the thing,” Anne rushed, wanting to get the information out as quickly as possible: “amber is meant to be living. Quite often, amber holds living things, like, uh,” she chuckled, “like <i>Jurassic Park</i>. And, like I said in the greenhouse, I - I want to underscore how alive my - uh, our relationship is. How much my love grows for you. Amber can also ‘charge,’ kind of, if it comes into contact with certain fabric, and - do you already know this? I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”</p><p>    “No, no, Pony.” Ann squeezed her thigh. “Keep going. Please, I don’t know any of this.”</p><p>    “Okay,” Anne sighed, “okay, uh - right, so amber can kind of charge and - and take on this new energy. And that’s how I feel about you and I. We’re taking on new energy, and you - you give me more energy. Different energy. You know me, darling, I,” she chuckled, “I’m so restless. But with you - my energy is all different. It’s all about being with you, even just sitting still with you makes me excited. <i>Not</i> like that,” Anne teased, squeezing her thighs around Ann’s hips. “And I’ve - here.” </p><p>She took the ring from its box, sliding it onto the index finger of her wife’s right hand. She couldn’t help feeling a surge of pride that she’d gotten the size right.</p><p>“We can have it resized,” Anne continued, “if you want it on a different finger. I did this one, because - well, you know I wear a ring there too. This one my uncle gave me, a million years ago. Wearing a ring on your forefinger used to be how aristocrats showed off their authority. Leadership. Things like that. So I’ve always worn mine here. I didn’t think it was right for my wife to have fewer rings than I did, and - well, and I want you to remember your authority. Your power. How strong and brave you are.”</p><p>“Anne,” her wife said faintly, her hand curling around Anne’s, the amber glinting in the light. “I think I’m going to cry.”</p><p>“That’s okay,” Anne said gently. “Do you - uh, do you like it?”</p><p>“Anne,” she sighed, turning hastily to face her, nearly clocking Anne in the face in the process. Her eyes were wide, brimming with tears; her whole face looked surprised, overwhelmed, teetering between joy and disbelief. “I love it. I love you, and I love it, and - you are the most thoughtful person I’ve ever met. Do you know that?”</p><p>Anne smiled, proud of her gift; she tilted her chin, daring Ann forward. She was rewarded by a deep, slow kiss that turned into them sinking low on the sofa, grinding together with their clothes on like a couple of teenagers. All groping hands and tender, exploring lips. Soft sighs and gentle rolls of the hips. When, at last, they surfaced, Anne couldn’t stop grinning. </p><p>“We better go.”</p><p>”What are we doing next, Pony?”</p><p>“We, my dear Miss Walker, are taking a cooking class.”</p><p>Ann’s groans carried them all the way up the stairs and to their closet. She was still grumbling as she indicated the dark grey suit and French cut shirt Anne was to wear, she’d just pulled off her tiny pajama shorts when she caught herself. </p><p>“Hold on,” she said, brow furrowed, “can we even dress up for this? We’ll get food all over our clothes.”</p><p>“No, Adney,” Anne drawled, stepping into her trousers. “It’ll be fine. We’ll wear aprons, and then, after, we are sitting down for a nice meal.”</p><p>“That we had to cook,” Ann said dryly.</p><p>“I thought you’d be more excited,” Anne dared; she wasn’t hurt by her wife’s reaction - she was certain Ann would enjoy the class - but she was surprised. “It’s fun to learn things together.”</p><p>“I thought we were going to make eyes at each other over a dimly lit table all night.” Ann turned, offering the unzipped back of her dark red dress; dutifully, Anne raised the zipper and kissed the nape of her neck. “I’m going to embarrass myself. And you.”</p><p>“You’re not,” Anne said simply, patting her wife’s hips before turning away. “It’ll be great, Adney.”</p><p>“I just - gosh, Pony, I don’t want to - to remind you of what a child I am.”</p><p>“Ann,” she said gently, shrugging into her shirt. “Come here.”</p><p>Her wife crossed the room sheepishly, picking up a deep red tie on the way; Anne smiled as she looped it around her neck. Their hands worked in tandem as Anne did up the buttons, and Ann tied the knot.</p><p>“You’re not a child, my love. This is just for fun. Something that I enjoy that I think you would too. Much like your yoga this morning, hmm?”</p><p>“Yes,” Ann said softly, “you’re right. I’m sorry, I -”</p><p>“Thank you,” Anne cut her off, kissing her forehead. “Will you do the honors?” </p><p>She held up her loose cuff, looking purposefully at the small velvet box on one of the cabinets. Smiling proudly, Ann retrieved the cufflinks, fitting them carefully around Anne’s wrist. This was supremely erotic, Anne thought. Something about hands and the silver and the closeness and the intimacy. She drew a ragged breath.</p><p>“Ready?” Ann looked up at her.</p><p>“Are you?”</p><p>“Yes,” her wife answered simply.</p><p>“Then, yes.” Anne pecked her lips, and led her out of the room.</p><p>The restaurant doing couples’ cooking lessons was an Italian place not far from Shibden. Anne had chosen it, in part, because the recipe seemed to be so easy. Spaghetti and meatballs. Nothing intimidating about that. She knew Ann would be flustered, and the thought of that made her heart sing. Ann got so cute when she was flustered. There would be other couples, as well, to shield them from the awkwardness of being the only ones with the chef. </p><p>Anne squeezed her wife’s hand as they entered the back room designated for the event. Exposed brick walls and intimate tables on the near end; stainless steel kitchen on the far side. They crossed over to the kitchen, choosing a stove/countertop station on the end and finding needlessly gendered aprons greeting them. </p><p>“Shall I be ‘Mr. Good Lookin’ Is Cookin’?” Anne asked sardonically, lifting the black apron.</p><p>“Only if you let me be ‘Mrs. Always Right,’” Ann giggled.</p><p>“Deal,” Anne kissed her wife quickly, before slipping off her suit jacket. “Where do you want to sit? I’ll claim it.”</p><p>Ann pointed to the table closest to them, near the wall. Anne draped their coats over the chairs, slipping her cufflinks off as she returned. She slid them into her pocket before rolling up her sleeves. Two other couples arrived, all four of whom laughed uproariously at the aprons.</p><p>“Straight people, right?” Anne whispered to her wife, earning her a gentle smack on the forearm. </p><p>They’d just gotten their aprons tied on when the instructor arrived - a very hairy young man with Tib’s haircut and a well-manicured beard. Anne wondered if she’d find his slick hair in her food later. His name - indignity of all indignities - was Chad.</p><p>As the class wore on, however, she had to admit that Chad seemed to be a nice enough guy. They made the spaghetti by hand, which Anne found to be pretty impressive. Ann’s initial tentativeness faded, and soon she was following along like Chad’s most ardent disciple. Anne could see what people liked about this guy, why he was good at this particular job. He was funny and easy to follow and patient. He didn’t even scold them when Ann yelped after Anne goosed her playfully. Anne just shrugged apologetically, before turning to her wife, who’d been charged with rolling the meatballs.</p><p>“Darling, be quiet,” she scolded facetiously. </p><p>“Do not,” Ann tried to suppress her giggles, “do that.”</p><p>“Do what?” She asked innocently, stirring the boiling spaghetti.</p><p>Ann smacked her playfully on the ass, just as Chad approached them. </p><p>“Alright, ladies,” he clapped his hands together, “how are we doing?”</p><p>“Very well, Chad,” Anne said with mock seriousness. “I think we have just about got this boiling water under control.”</p><p>“Glad to hear it,” he nodded before turning away.</p><p>“You’re a beast,” Ann laughed, wiping her forehead with the side of her hand. “Is that oven ready yet?”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.” </p><p>Anne slid the tray inside while Ann washed her hands. For a beat, with everything cooking, they just stared at each other. Ann hooked her finger in Anne’s belt loop.</p><p>“I’m having a really good time, Pony.”</p><p>“Are you?”</p><p>“I really am. I’m sorry for being nervous before.”</p><p>“Don’t apologize for being nervous. That’s okay. You’re doing great.”</p><p>Ann beamed, fiddling with the end of Anne’s tie. As much as fun as this was, Anne suddenly wished they were home. Nearer to their bed. Ann seemed to sense it too, taking a step closer to her; her blue eyes took a dark turn. </p><p>Then the oven beeped. </p><p>They jolted apart, going through the last stages of draining and plating and putting everything together. Anne shouldn’t have been so surprised by how easily they moved together in the kitchen. She could hear the other couples bickering, the forced laughter as they bumped into each other, the growing resentment; she and Ann moved as easily as if they were dancers in a well-practiced routine. She couldn’t help feeling smugly superior. When they were finished, they had two plates of spaghetti and meatballs with red sauce; perhaps not the most beautiful, but Anne was proud. And hungry. </p><p>“Lovely,” Chad pronounced as he inspected their work. “You two did very well.” </p><p>With a smile and a nod, he dismissed them to their table. Anne carried both plates, while Ann took the bottle of wine from Chad’s outstretched hand. There was a corkscrew on the table, and Anne eased the bottle open. Someone must have come to dress the table while they were cooking - two glasses of water, a basket of warm bread, and a flickering candle now sat on the tablecloth. </p><p>“This is nice, Pony,” Ann said as Anne poured the wine.</p><p>“It is, isn’t it?” Anne looked around as she rolled down her sleeves and redid her cufflinks. “I hope we don’t poison ourselves.”</p><p>“Chad would never let that happen.”</p><p>“Too true,” Anne laughed.</p><p>And, actually, they’d done pretty well. It was hard to screw up such a simple dish, Anne figured, but she fancied it was the best she’d ever had.  Ann grinned across from her. </p><p>“Yes?” Anne drawled.</p><p>“Oh, I can’t wait to ride your cock tonight, Anne Lister.”</p><p>It was then that Anne started to choke. She.  should’ve known better than to take a bite while Ann had that look in her eye. When she finally, finally, got her breath, Ann was laughing at her. </p><p>“Ann!” She whined. “I could’ve died.”</p><p>“And what a shame that would be,” Ann said seriously, though her eyes were playful, “before I got to ride your cock.”</p><p>“I’ll have you over my knee, Miss Walker.”</p><p>“Promises, promises.”</p><p>Was it any wonder, then, that they were tearing at each other’s clothes before they even crossed the threshold to their bedroom? Ann’s lips were hungry, her hands already untucking Anne’s shirt as they stumbled to the base of the stairs. Poor Captain Lister, who had to clear his throat loudly just to get their attention. Anne’s heart raced wildly as she turned to find her austere, quiet father waiting up for them.</p><p>“Father!” She panted. “I thought you’d be asleep.”</p><p>“Clearly,” Father chuckled, rising from his recliner; it was only now that Anne saw Tiny curled up at his feet. “I was going to tell you two that Tiny can sleep with me tonight. A Valentine’s gift for the both of you.”</p><p>“Oh, Father, I - I don’t want to put you out.”</p><p>“No telling what this poor dog has had to see,” Father scolded playfully, as he and Tiny mounted the stairs. “Argus has been a bit mopey today, you know how he gets, so I told Marian he could spend the night with me. She’s with that boy.”</p><p>“I’m sure,” Anne said dryly.</p><p>“Don’t start on that.” Father was now at the landing. “We’ve already had our row, and now you two going at it like rabbits before you’re even upstairs. No, we’ll have a little sleepover, dogs and me, and we’ll see you in the morning.”</p><p>Even from downstairs, Anne could see her father turn off his hearing aid. The matter was not up for discussion. She turned to her wife, who was now blushing as deeply as she’d ever seen her. She wrapped her arms around Ann, pulling her head into her chest.</p><p>“It’s okay, darling,” she chuckled, rubbing Ann’s back. “He doesn’t mind. He knows.”</p><p>“Oh <i>God</i>, Anne,” her wife whined. “How can I ever look at him again? I mean your <i>father</i>? I had my tongue halfway down your throat.”</p><p>“Come on.” Anne led her gently to the stairs. “Once he walked in on me and - well, shall we say, a woman I’d met - and he just closed the door. Marian told me later he’d ordered everyone to stay downstairs until we emerged. Would not have us disturbed.”</p><p>“Really?” Ann breathed as they got to their bedroom.</p><p>“Oh, yeah, and I was young then. I hadn’t necessarily come out yet, not in a formal sort of way, but I - I always felt like I had his support. In his own, strange, Father way.”</p><p>Ann nodded thoughtfully.</p><p>“Does it put you off?” Anne asked softly. “Did it ruin our evening?”</p><p>“Not really,” Ann admitted with a chuckle. “Check with me in the morning, when I can’t face him at breakfast, but for now,” she sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling Anne to her by the tails of her suit jacket, “I’ve been thinking about undressing you all evening.”</p><p>“Have you?”</p><p>Ann nodded, a shy smile on her lips as she pushed Anne’s jacket gently from her shoulders. She loosened her tie then pulled the soft material off with a flourish. Anne could feel desire roiling in her gut as her wife took off her cufflinks, then started to unbutton her shirt. Her chest was heaving by the time Ann pushed the fabric from her shoulders and flicked open her trousers.</p><p>“Ann.”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Are you aware - uh, of how you look right now?”</p><p>Ann looked up at her, from under her eyelashes, a playful smile on her pretty pink lips; from this vantage, Anne could see right down the front of her dress, the swell of her cleavage, the flush of desire creeping up her chest. Anne felt positively feral at the sight of her. Perhaps it was the build up of the evening, the whole day, the relief of finally being in their own bedroom. Ann wrapped the hands in the fronts of her trousers and pulled her closer, between her spread legs. </p><p>“I only know how you look right now, Pony, and how wet I am.”</p><p>“Stand up,” she breathed. Ann complied, and she turned her around gently by the hips. “You’re so beautiful.” She eased the zipper down, pressing her lips to each inch of exposed skin along Ann’s pale back; as she reached the line of her panties, Anne dropped to her knees, the fabric of Ann’s dress falling to her feet. “Turn around.”</p><p>Ann turned, stepping gracefully from her discarded dress; Anne hooked her fingers in the black lace of her panties, dragging them gently down her legs. </p><p>“Pony.”</p><p>The air felt charged with tension. Their eyes were locked as Ann sat on the foot of the bed, spreading her legs wide and tangling her hands in Anne’s hair. Anne worried she would combust on the spot. She dipped her head, kissing the insides of her thighs, dragging her tongue over her belly, kneading her hips gently. Ann’s slender fingers urged her forward, and she buried her face between her wife’s legs. </p><p>“Oh, Pony,” she moaned. “Oh, fuck.” </p><p>Normally, Anne might’ve grinned at the desperation in her wife’s voice, but for now, she focused on the task at hand. She was just as desperate to feel Ann on her tongue as Ann seemed to be to have her there; her hands tightened around Ann’s slim hips, her lungs full of the scent of her arousal, her lips closing around her clit. </p><p>“Anne,” she squeaked. “Don’t tease.”</p><p>Of course, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t, even if she tried. She worked quickly, alternating between flicking Ann’s clit with her tongue and sucking gently with her lips. She eased her index finger inside, humming softly at the clutching warmth of Ann’s core; she stretched her with a second finger, then a third, building up that divine pressure with every stroke. Ann’s fingers tightened in her hair and pulled her closer. Anne could feel the telltale tremble in Ann’s thighs as she pressed harder, stroked faster. </p><p>“There - Anne, I - yes!” </p><p>With a final whimper, Ann shuddered, holding Anne tightly, her whole body shaking through her release. Anne eased her through the aftershocks, reveling in her wife’s incoherent mumbling and the exquisite taste on her tongue. At last, Ann fell back onto the bed and released her head. Anne stood, shucked her trousers, and crawled on top of her. With a shaky hand, Ann pulled her head down, licking the remnants of her arousal from her face before bringing their lips together for a sloppy, breathless kiss.</p><p>“Go get it,” Ann said softly. </p><p>“Get what?” Anne teased, pretty sure she knew exactly what Ann wanted.</p><p>“The strap, Pony.” Ann spanked her playfully. “I intend to make good on my promise.”</p><p>That was enough reason for Anne to vault off the bed and retrieve the strap. She shivered with anticipation as she fitted the harness around her hips, lining the base up just where she needed it; she tore off her bra and returned to the bedroom just in time to see Ann doing the same. </p><p>“Get over here,” Ann grinned. </p><p>Growling playfully, Anne launched onto the bed, leaning against the headboard and lifting Ann into her lap. The strap pressed between them as their lips met in a fierce kiss. Anne found her wife’s perky breasts, rolling her nipples under her thumbs; Ann arched her back, pressing into Anne’s roaming hands. Humming in appreciation, Anne kissed the side of her neck, down to her shoulder, the sharp line of her clavicle. She lost herself in this movement, in the perfect weight of Ann’s breasts, the softness of her skin, and the steamy warmth building between them. When she opened her eyes, Ann was warming a bottle of lubricant between her hands. </p><p>“Impatient?” </p><p>“Yes,” Ann breathed, squirting a small pool of lubricant into her hand and coating the strap with it. “How’s that, Pony?”</p><p>Anne bit back a moan as Ann drove the base of the cock against her clit. She wasn’t sure how she would survive this.  For a few moments, Ann stroked her just like this, stoking that low flame in Anne’s gut. Anne wondered if she would come just from this. And then Ann raised up on her knees.</p><p>“Adney.” Her eyes were trained on the pink silicone, watching it disappear slowly between her wife’s legs. “Oh fuck,” she grunted, wrapping her hands around Ann’s hips, guiding her down until she had taken every inch of Anne’s cock. “Oh, Ann, fuck.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ann sighed, rolling her hips. “Oh, yeah.”</p><p>“Like that.” Anne guided her movements, easing her slowly up and down, thrusting shallowly. “Just like that, baby. Oh - oh, fuck.”</p><p>Anne couldn’t remember the last time she’d had to stave off an orgasm like this. She felt close to the edge already, but she wasn’t ready to lose this sensation. Ann started to move faster, rise up higher, sink down harder; they moaned in unison. Anne bucked her hips upward, supporting Ann as she rode her cock. Ann’s whole body bounced with every thrust; Anne had no choice but to cover both with her hands, relishing the swell of her breasts and the straining of her hard nipples against her palms. </p><p>“Pony,” Ann whined, grinding down harder. “I - fuck - can we -”</p><p>As always, Anne was more than happy to flip her wife over and drive her into oblivion. Her abs were sore - a combination of the yoga and the afternoon in the chaumière, but she didn’t care. It didn’t matter. She was so close. The press of Ann’s breasts was so hot. The graze of her teeth just sharp enough. The slide of her tongue sloppy and wet and delicious as it tangled with Anne’s. Ann gripped Anne’s shoulders, lifting her hips and taking Anne deeper. Snaking a hand between them, Anne found her wife’s clit, strumming frantically as Ann’s hushed whimpers filled her ears. She felt Ann’s core clutch around her cock, and she sped up, losing her rhythm as her own climax threatened to overwhelm her.</p><p>“Pony, I’m -”</p><p>“Me too,” Anne panted, “me - fuck, me - Ann!”</p><p>She came with a gasp, shuddering as Ann shuddered with her. The room was filled with the slick slap of their skin and the muttered obscenities and half-sentences dripping from their lips. The clench of Ann’s core around her cock sent shivers up her spine, relief to her tired muscles and aching clit. She collapsed onto her wife with a groan. For a long moment, they laid just like that, returning to their bodies. </p><p>“Ann, fuck.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Seriously.”</p><p>“Can you -”</p><p>“I don’t think I can move.”</p><p>“Pony,” Ann giggled. “Roll over.”</p><p>“I might be dead, Ann. I don’t think my body can take much more.”</p><p>“That’s a shame.” Ann traced her hand over Anne’s sweaty back. “There was something I wanted to try.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I wondered, if - uh, if I could make you come, by - uh - by sucking your cock.”</p><p>All the energy Anne thought she had lost rushed back. She rose up on her knees in an instant, eyes wide and heart racing, pumping desire through her veins. She eased her cock out slowly, biting back a grin at the small shiver Ann gave as she was left empty. </p><p>“Now I don’t know,” Ann said, guiding Anne to lean back against the headboard, “I’ve just done this a few times.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Anne breathed. “Good Lord, Adney, I - I might be able to come from the thought of it.”</p><p>“Well that’s no fun,” Ann teased, dropping down to her forearms, her ass in the air. “Okay?”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Closing her eyes, Ann dropped her head to take the head of Anne’s cock between her lips. The pressure of it, even just this much, was delicious agony against Anne’s still-sensitive clit. She wrapped her hand in Ann’s hair, holding it away from her face as Ann bobbed her head slowly up and down.</p><p>“Oh, fuck,” Anne groaned, the lowness and roughness of her voice surprising her. “Holy shit.”</p><p>Ann pulled back with a ‘pop,’ grinning widely.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Yes, Adney, fuck.” Anne’s hips bucked of their own accord. “Please.”</p><p>Still grinning, Ann nodded, lowering herself to wrap her lips around Anne’s cock again. Deeper this time. Where the hell had she learned that? Ann teased her, pressing the cock down her throat, then pulling back; the effect on Anne’s clit was torturous. She started to thrust upward, gently, into Ann’s mouth. </p><p>“Fucking hell, Ann, have - fuck - have you been practicing?”</p><p>Ann didn’t respond, just bobbed her head faster; Anne followed her lead, bucking her hips as she chased her climax. She felt the first tremor in her stomach. She kept her eyes on Ann’s tight little bum, wiggling in the air as she moved. Her core clenched. She tugged Ann’s hair tighter. Fire burned between her legs. She closed her eyes, dropping her head back and shuddering with her release. Her hips juddered, and faintly she worried about hurting her wife’s delicate throat. Ann didn’t seem to mind; she couldn’t see what Ann was doing, but she was certainly drawing every last drop of pleasure from her. Tears stung her eyes. Her skin burned. Every cell in her body exploded.</p><p>Then she opened her eyes, her body finally stilling. Ann sat back on her heels, biting her lip; her eyes danced with delight. Still panting, Anne wrapped a hand around the back of Ann’s neck, pulling her in to kiss her hard. Ann giggled into the kiss, pulling back with a pleased grin. </p><p>“How’d I do, Pony?”</p><p>“Holy shit,” Anne sighed. “How did you do that?”</p><p>“It felt really natural, actually.” Anne could hear more than a hint of pride in her wife’s voice, especially as she unbuckled the harness. “Before, you know, it was kind of like guesswork. But now, with that thing, I - I don’t know. I really liked it.”</p><p>“Me too,” Anne groaned, shivering at the rush of air as her core was exposed. “Good Lord, Adney, me too.”</p><p>“One more?” Ann asked hopefully. </p><p>“Oh, yes,” Anne purred, flipping her wife onto her back. “One more.”</p><p>Ann was already twisting her hips, helping Anne align their cores. They moaned in unison as they pressed together. Anne planted her hands on either side of her wife’s angelic face, taking a moment to marvel in the incredible fact that this was now her life. Making love to Ann Walker on Valentine’s Day. </p><p>“You’re so perfect,” she whispered as she rolled their hips together. </p><p>“You are,” Ann chuckled, wiping an errant tear from Anne’s face.</p><p>Shaking her head, Anne caught her hand, pressed her lips to the knuckle, just above the amber ring. </p><p>“You are, Ann Walker. You’re amazing.”</p><p>In response, Ann just tilted her chin. Their lips met softly, slowly, as their hips rolled together. Anne relished the joining of their bodies, the filthy sound of their arousal slipping together, the intrinsic warmth of Ann’s core pressed so closely to her own. Her mind raced with a thousand sweet nothings to whisper in her wife’s ear, but she chose to bite her tongue. Instead, she focused on the sound of their breathing mingling in their bedroom, in their home. She worried she would cry again, but Ann reached up to kiss her once more. When they separated, Ann was holding up the bullet vibrator.</p><p>“When did you get that out?”</p><p>Ann just shrugged, flicking it on and bringing it between them. Anne’s instinct was to close her eyes and focus on the sensation, but she was entranced by her wife’s face. The depth of her blue eyes and the flush on her cheeks and the way her lips parted and her jaw thrust forward as she came. Anne followed swiftly after, overwhelmed the beauty of their lovemaking, of the moment, of their lives.</p><p>“Oh, Pony,” Ann sighed, tossing the still-buzzing vibrator to the side. “Fucking hell.”</p><p>“I know,” Anne said softly, kissing her again before rolling to the side and flicking the vibrator off. “I was getting properly sentimental.”</p><p>“Were you?” Ann grinned, sliding to her feet and going about cleaning up the debris from their haste; Anne always loved the casual domesticity of this moment, not to mention the gentle sway of her wife’s bare body as she puttered around the room. “Like what?”</p><p>“Oh, you know,” Anne rolled to her side to watch her gather up their clothes, “how beautiful our lives are.”</p><p>“Are they?” Ann held up the strap with a wink.</p><p>“Oh, especially that,” Anne laughed.</p><p>As they went through their nightly routine, Anne was struck by the beauty of the banal. She’d been so terrified of it, hadn’t she? Once, she’d told Mary it was all she’d ever really been frightened of. And yet, wasn’t this banal? Brushing her teeth while her wife covered her body in lotions and potions? Striding back through the closet they shared, stowing her new cufflinks carefully in pride of place? Climbing into bed with her clunky reading glasses and tattered novel? Of course it was. It was banal, but it was also perfect. She sighed in contentment.</p><p>“What?” Ann looked up at her from her perch on Anne’s shoulder; her arm was draped across Anne’s waist like it was meant to be there. Which, Anne supposed, it was. </p><p>“I feel very sappy tonight,” Anne said thoughtfully.</p><p>“Happy Valentine’s Day, Pony.”</p><p>“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”</p><p>Ann had just fallen asleep when there was a tentative knock at the door. Anne scrambled out of bed, wrapped her robe around her body, and creaked open the door. Father. </p><p>    “This dog,” he said, “misses you.”</p><p>  “What?”</p><p>    “She started whining at my door, about a half hour ago. I open the door; she comes right here.”</p><p>    As if on cue, Tiny nudged the door open wider, racing into the room and leaping onto the bed. Anne smiled at her father.</p><p>“Thank you, Father,” she said sincerely. “For watching her. That was very generous.”</p><p>“Don’t get used to it,” he said gruffly, already turning away.</p><p>Climbing back into bed, with Tiny between her legs and Ann snuggled into her chest as if she’d never left, Anne had never felt more domestic. She closed her eyes, thanking God that she’d been shown the beauty of the banal.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>The amber ring is based on the one Ann wears in the show - big shoutout to iredreamer on Tumblr who has great analysis, including a lovely post about Ann’s rings. I’m a sucker for rings. If Anne has two, surely Ann should as well? </p><p>The bit about Jeremy is based on a diary entry where Anne says (I think she was telling Mrs. Barlow) that her father had basically “hired a person” to come around, they were locked in Anne’s bedroom, and Jeremy wouldn’t have them disturbed. I can’t find that entry though. To be fair, I did not take the time to flip through my books. But I <i>feel</i> like that’s real?<br/>Also, taking the dogs for a night feels like a Dad Move to me. Definitely something my dad always did - like, I’m in charge of the dogs! I can train any dog! - plus I wanted to show Jeremy being supportive of the Ann(es), because, well, that’s nice. </p><p>Lastly - tomorrow’s chapter is probably going to be an Anne flashback like we had for Anne. But she’s so much older! And had way more going on! What’s the vibe on having one survey chapter or two halves with a bit more detail? Let me know!</p><p>Thank you for reading!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Compromise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tib/Anne filth<br/>if that’s not your jam, skip it ☺️ two chapters today</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tib tries not to smile as she watches Anne process Mariana’s engagement photo. It’s the moment she’s been waiting for since Anne first threw her over for that little devil. Perhaps this would shake Anne from her hypnosis. When Anne looks up, she has that fire in her eyes. Tib’s core clenches. </p><p>Here’s the thing about Isabella Norcliffe - she’s been entranced by Anne Lister from the moment they met. Teaching Anne to fuck was perhaps the supreme thrill of her life, and Tib really thought they had a connection. Then Mariana appeared, and Tib’s life has never been the same since. In every other area of her life, Tib is brash and bold and unbothered. With Anne? She’s as gentle as a kitten. Not gentle, necessarily, but she rolls over. Every other woman in her life has happily submitted to her greedy hands and hungry kisses; she’d never even had sex on her back until Anne came around. She’s a proud top to the rest of the world; for Anne Lister? The bottomiest bottom in history. </p><p>Anne’s jaw is set; Tib can see the telltale vein protruding in her forehead. She’s pissed. Tib tilts her head sympathetically. </p><p>“This is real?” Anne demands.</p><p>“Yes,” Tib answers flippantly, annoyed that Anne seems to think she would make it up.</p><p>“You’re serious?”</p><p>“I didn’t make a fucking fake newspaper, Lister! Your sainted Mariana has abandoned you, buddy. For an old man and his old man’s cock.”</p><p>“Fuck you, Tib.”</p><p>“Fuck you, Anne.”</p><p>They crash together like two eighteen-wheelers. Crumpling and pushing and spinning out of control. Tib tugs Anne backward, toward her bedroom, grateful they are in her apartment, rather than Shibden. Anne’s hands are everywhere, roaming in Tib’s short hair, along her back, over her arms, and finally up to her shoulders. She pushes down, and then her strong legs are wrapped around Tib’s waist. It’s a necessity, picking Anne up like this; she is so much shorter than Tib, but she needs to be in control. From this perch, Anne can actually get above Tib, angling her head down to catch her lips in a bruising kiss. Tib kneads her thighs, pressing her into the wall and bucking her hips.</p><p>“Anne,” she gasps as Anne tears her t-shirt apart; Anne’s tailored strength is always intensely arousing. Tib feels like a bulky pile of fat next to her lean, muscular body. “Fucking hell.”</p><p>“Bed,” Anne orders, running her hands down to Tib’s sports bra, squeezing her breasts roughly. </p><p>Tib complies, sitting on the foot of the bed as Anne continues her brutal assault of her neck with her lips. She leans back, and Anne scoots down to wrench open her jeans. Tib wiggles her hips as Anne tears her jeans from her legs, followed closely by her boxers. She gasps when Anne launches between her thighs; her mouth is relentless as she breaks Tib apart, stroke by hungry stroke. </p><p>“Anne, right there - you’re - oh, fuck, yeah, that’s it.”</p><p>It’s too fast, the way her climax is approaching, but Tib can’t help it. She wishes she could hold off, but she can’t. It’s overwhelming. It’s hot. It’s relentless. Anne is so, so fucking good at this. With a low grunt, Tib stretches taut, her body shaking with pleasure. Too soon, Anne pulls away, biting the insides of Tib’s thighs and tearing the last connected piece of her t-shirt. </p><p>“Hold on,” Tib pants, “do your - your shirt.”</p><p>“No,” Anne says firmly, pressing her lips to and grazing her teeth over Tib’s round belly. </p><p>“Anne, I’m serious. I’m not - wait.” Tib grabs her wrists, forcing Anne to meet her eye. “Calm the fuck down.”</p><p>“I’m angry.”</p><p>“I can tell. And it’s hot, but it’s not good for you.”</p><p>“Oh, fuck off.” Anne pulls against Tib’s hands, but it’s no use. “Tib. Goddamn it.”</p><p>“Anne. Breathe.” </p><p>For a moment, Anne refuses; Tib wonders if she’ll suffocate out of a sheer, stubborn refusal to comply. Then she sighs. Her shoulders slump. Tib releases her wrists, and Anne falls onto her chest. </p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Alright. We can fuck it out, Lister, but I’m not - I’m not taking off all my bloody clothes if you won’t.”</p><p>Anne does this sometimes, where she puts up a wall between them, as if asserting her sartorial dominance as well as her sexual dominance. Sometimes it makes Tib hot, but tonight, it feels wrong. Anne needs to be broken down just as much as Tib does.</p><p>“Fine,” Anne grumbles, rising up to whip off her shirt and jeans. She drops back between Tib’s legs in her boxers and sports bra. “A compromise.”</p><p>“Fine,” Tib echoes, pulling Anne back down onto her.</p><p>Their kiss is no less fiery this time around. Their bodies grind together in that familiar way; if nothing else, she and Anne are good at this. Anne is greedy in her touch, her hands lighting small fires as she roams Tib’s body. She finds Tib’s core, thrusting inside sharply and finding her spot with practiced ease. As usual, Anne struggles to find her clit, and Tib has to reach down to direct her. She nips at Anne’s neck when she gets it right. </p><p>“There we are,” she moans, catching Anne’s rough rhythm. “Right like that, Anne, fuck.”</p><p>It’s all low growls and sharp kisses and brutal thrusts from there. Tib can feel her climax building again. She grips Anne’s hips,  bucking up into her hand.</p><p>“More,” she grunts.</p><p>“You like that?” Anne growls, stretching Tib with a third finger; Tib moans. “That’s fucking right. You love it, don’t you?”</p><p>“Yes,” Tib pants, closing her eyes. “Oh fuck, yeah, I do.”</p><p>For a few moments, there’s just the sound of their breathing and their slick skin and Tib’s growing cries. It’s almost enough. Almost.</p><p>“More,” she demands. </p><p>“More?” Anne grunts, squeezing her pinky finger in with the rest, curling and spreading and twisting relentlessly; her thumbs strums Tib’s clit in perfect rhythm. Tib can see the muscles in her arm standing out. “God, you’re greedy, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Can’t get enough of me, can you?”</p><p>“Never.”</p><p>“Come on, Tib. Give it up.” Anne is brutal, pumping her hand mercilessly between Tib’s legs; Tib cries out, arching her back and bucking her hips. “There it is.”</p><p>Tib shudders, surrendering to the intense, overwhelming release. Anne strokes her through it, still rough as she eases every drop of pleasure from her. When Tib sighs with the last of it, Anne slips her hand into her own boxers; Tib pulls it away, replacing it with her own. Anne is wet, her clit hard and desperate. Tib watches her hand moving below the fabric, the way Anne’s hips buck and her face contorts, how she jerks once then trembles for a moment. They pull away in unison, then Anne falls to the side. Tib rolls over to kiss her softly. As she pulls away, Anne grabs her face, fingers tangling in her short hair; she pulls her in for another kiss, this one deeper. </p><p>“Thank you,” Anne says hoarsely. </p><p>Tib can’t tell if it’s for the sex or for the news about Mariana. Either way, it makes her feel cheap. In a few minutes, Anne makes an excuse and leaves. Tib steps in the shower, willing herself not to cry. Nothing has changed. Tib is still alone, with only the soreness between her legs to remind her of Anne Lister’s affection.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>Had a few requests for some Tib/Anne action. I dunno. It’s different and was definitely a fun exploration of these two in a very specific moment in their lives.</p><p>Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. A Complicated Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Anne is fourteen, she meets Eliza Raine. Eliza with her dark skin and wild eyes in that tiny attic bedroom. It’s supposed to be a punishment, Anne knows, this banishment to the very top of the building. Eliza is “weird,” the other girls tell her; she talks too much and never focuses. Anne thinks she’s beautiful. </p><p>The first time they kiss, Anne is unsure they’re doing it right. She and Eliza spend hours in Eliza’s bed (she has the better, more comfortable mattress), practicing and critiquing and perfecting. </p><p>    “No, Anne!” Eliza exclaims one night. “You can’t just mash your lips like that.”</p><p>    “Let me try again,” Anne offers eagerly. “We just need more practice.”</p><p>    They get better, though, and slowly this “practice” morphs into genuine enjoyment. There are murmured words and roaming hands; Anne knows she’s gone past the point of mere practice. Especially when she finds her underwear is damp every time they part. She’s not sure how to say this, what Eliza will do when she does, so, for about a month, she says nothing at all. </p><p>    As usual, it’s Eliza who says the difficult, uncomfortable thing.</p><p>    “I keep having to change my underwear when we finish this,” Eliza says matter-of-factly, hopping to the floor and leaving a panting, aching Anne in her bed. She shimmies out of her cotton panties, holding them up for Anne to see. “Like, what is that? Do I have a yeast infection?”</p><p>    “I don’t think so,” Anne says frantically, trying to hold onto the words in her mind, even as her eyes lose focus over the wild thatch of dark hair between Eliza’s legs. “I - uh - I feel the same way.”</p><p>    “Do you?” Eliza asks, cocking one hip out; it’s easy to be naked in front of your roommate, isn’t it? Anne doesn’t understand why she can’t stop flicking her eyes down to Eliza’s crotch. “What do you think it is?”</p><p>    “Have you ever - uh - have you ever wanked?”</p><p>    “No,” Eliza laughs, “girls can’t wank.”</p><p>    “That’s not true.”</p><p>    “Yeah, it is.” </p><p>Eliza’s annoyed now, putting on fresh underwear and rolling her eyes; Anne can see the moment has slipped away from her. It’s not for another two weeks that Anne can bring it up again. </p><p>They’re on Eliza’s bed, and Anne shifts her knee. Not necessarily on purpose. Not necessarily an accident. Either way, it presses between Eliza’s legs. She shivers. Anne pulls back for a moment, licking her swollen lips and studying the effect this movement has had on her roommate. Eliza’s eyes are closed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Anne does it again. Eliza shivers again. Anne drops her head back down, catching Eliza’s lips in the way she likes, the way she always praises Anne for. Eliza’s hands are a bit more desperate across her back, a bit more real, Anne fancies. </p><p>When she finally pulls away and sits back on her heels, Eliza’s hips are gyrating of their own accord. She lays a gentle hand across her belly, over her thin t-shirt, above her cotton panties, which Anne can see are soaked. </p><p>“Have you ever wanked, Eliza?”</p><p>“No!” </p><p>“Let me show you. Come here.”</p><p>They sit up, their backs against the cool wall, their feet dangling over the sides of the narrow bed. Anne shimmies her underwear down to the middle of her thighs. She pulls her folds apart, points to her clit, already aching from hours spent tangled up with Eliza.</p><p>“This? Feels really good.”</p><p>“Really?” Eliza’s eyes are wide, torn between fear and disbelief and desire. “Do I have one?”</p><p>“Yes,” Anne answers gently. “Go on.”</p><p>It’s really not as awkward as it should be, the way Eliza wrenches down her panties and spreads herself apart. Anne points carefully, desperate to touch but afraid of rejection. Eliza presses hard with her index finger; she shivers, but Anne knows it could be better.</p><p>“Like this.”</p><p>And this is how Anne and Eliza start masturbating next to each other every night. Anne shows her dark-haired roommate what she likes, things to try, ways to draw out and heighten the feeling. One night, Eliza takes them past the point of no return.</p><p>“I want to do this while I’m kissing you. Or - or what if you do it to me?”</p><p>“Yeah?” Anne can’t believe how fast her heart is racing. </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>It’s always like that with Eliza - what should be awkward or taboo becomes intriguing and sensual and impossibly hot. Over the course of the next month, Anne explores every inch of Eliza's body. It starts between her legs, just bringing her to orgasm. Then she explores her breasts, which are equally exciting, even in all their pubescent newness. Anne pays closer attention to Eliza Raine than she ever did to her studies - memorizing every freckle and sigh and hair.</p><p>“I love you,” Eliza tells her one night, and Anne can’t believe how easy life is. How it’s falling into place. The love of her life just happens to be her roommate? What are the odds? </p><p>They trade endless notes, as teenagers do, full of flowery words and melodramatic sighs. It’s not until one of these notes is misplaced that they devise the code. They love each other, but they know what they’re doing is not exactly encouraged. Not at Ripon. It’s too late, of course, and all the complicated alphabet of symbols cannot save them. The headmistress presents Anne with a slip of paper: “I can still smell you on my hands. I can’t wait to fuck you again. Why is Miss Bradley being such a bitch?” It’s Anne’s handwriting. There’s no reason to deny it. She is summarily expelled.</p><p>Eliza weeps as Anne packs her things, but Anne feels she can barely spare the tears. She’s sad, yes, but she’s mostly angry. That note was private. Clearly. Why should she be penalized for being in love? If they only understood. If they would just <i>listen</i>. If they could see the beauty of Eliza’s body as Anne brings her to orgasm, maybe then they would understand. </p><p>It’s the day after her fifteenth birthday. </p><p>After that, she moves into Shibden. Rebecca is delving further into alcoholism, and Jeremy is gone. At least Uncle James is interesting. There’s always something to do on the estate, and soon Anne’s body transforms into the column of lean, wiry strength it would remain for the rest of her life. She channels her anger into work, pouring out her despair into the journal Aunt Anne bought for her. Eliza stops responding to her letters; she’s not allowed a phone in that attic room, and Anne wonders if her letters are being intercepted. Perhaps the school is keeping them apart. Perhaps Eliza is just tired of her; cynicism starts to harden where there was once nothing but optimism.</p><p>Aunt Anne tries to tutor her; it’s really not her fault Anne is such a poor student. She can’t focus. She’s always jiggling her leg, staring out the window, and diving ahead in the lessons after Aunt Anne has gone to sleep. In the end, Aunt Anne gives up, and Anne pursues her education alone. From then on, the only intervention from her spry aunt with the twinkling eyes is the stacks of books that appear regularly outside of Anne’s room. Soon, Anne is learning how to build a bookshelf just to hold her growing collection.</p><p>Jeremy tries to bring her back home when she’s seventeen, but by then Anne is wild. She’s practically one of those feral children, the ones who walk on all fours and speak only in grunts. It’s not even the house she grew up in, this dump that imprisons her. Marian is there, but Sam is off at school. He’s wise enough not to get caught with his love notes. </p><p>One morning, Anne finds a sword in the attic. She’s restless and missing Shibden like a limb. She climbs onto the roof, having just shorn off as much of her hair as she could manage. Jeremy’s clippers are ruined, but she doesn’t care. She’s got short hair and a sword and the whole world to conquer.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Jeremy cries as the family rushes out to gawk at her.</p><p>It’s always like this, Anne feels. They’re always bloody staring at her. Like she’s a freak. A nuisance. A terrifying creature about to fly off the handle - which, to be fair, she usually is. </p><p>“Fuck off!” She screams. “Just leave me alone. I’m busy.”</p><p>She returns to her gazing, wondering how she could make this little plot of land her own. She’s learned enough from Uncle James; she could manage this estate, if she’s to be exiled from Shibden. It wouldn’t be the same, but Anne would still like to cultivate some land. When her mother speaks, Anne knows she’ll be sent back.</p><p>“Why can’t she be normal, like other people’s children?” Rebecca slurs. It’s not even noon.</p><p>“You’re ridiculous!” Jeremy calls. “You’re impossible!”</p><p>“And you’re feckless,” she fires back. “And she’s drunk! As usual.”</p><p>It’s at this point that Anne sees Marian, peeking out from behind Rebecca, tears staining her face.</p><p>“Stop crying, Marian,” she calls, teasing and waving the sword in the air.</p><p>“Get! Down!” Jeremy shouts, but Anne just sits down on the roof tiles.</p><p>She’s laughing. Right? The tears are a byproduct of the laughter, aren’t they? Her family scurries inside, giving up on her. Just like everyone always has. Her family sent her off in the first place. Then Eliza. Aunt Anne. Uncle James. Now that same stupid family again. She buries her head in her arms, her body shaking with sobs.</p><p>Uncle James takes her back the next week. He tells her she can stay at Shibden for as long as she likes, and she resolves to stay forever. She becomes the consummate niece, rising before the sun and filling her day with gardening and building and studying. Uncle James won’t listen to her plans for improvements, but he lets her help with the upkeep. The warm earth of Shibden becomes her closest friend and confidante. In the fields, she can pour out her misery, her confusion, her anger.</p><p>She’s different from other girls her age, that much is clear. Just the way she carries herself is different, somehow wrong. She can’t walk like a woman or behave like one or speak like one. Aunt Anne tries to guide her, but they are constantly frustrated by Anne’s failures. She just can’t do it. One night, she pats Anne’s short, bristly hair affectionately.</p><p>“I think you’re perfect just how you are, Antsy. Just be who you are.”</p><p>It’s the closest Anne ever gets to coming out. She never discusses it with her aunt or uncle again, but they seem to understand. She’s brash and determined and a bit too quick with her tongue. She’s also a lesbian, but that feels like a given. It doesn’t matter, anyway, she thinks forlornly; Eliza is hours away, and there’s no one else. There couldn’t be.</p><p>Well.</p><p>When she’s eighteen, she meets Isabella Norcliffe. She’s tall and bulky, with baggy jeans and hair as short as Anne’s. The Norcliffes are richer than the Listers, with an even more illustrious family line. Anne feels an instant kinship. Tib thrusts her hand firmly into Anne’s, shaking vigorously.</p><p>“Anne Lister? Isabella Norcliffe. So fucking good to meet you, mate.”</p><p>Two hours later, Isabella is dragging her into the upstairs bathroom. Her mouth is rough and determined in a way that Eliza’s never was. The confidence is intoxicating, not to mention the beers they’d drunk. Anne has never had sex like this before - rushed and hot and precise. Isabella is skilled, and she brings Anne to a shuddering climax that makes every orgasm in Anne’s past look tepid and weak.</p><p>With Eliza, Anne almost always touched herself or ground out her release against Eliza’s thigh. Isabella plays her clit like a fine-tuned instrument; Anne can’t believe how good she feels. </p><p>“Holy shit,” she breathes into the taller woman’s neck.</p><p>“Come see me sometime, Lister. I think we could have a good time.”</p><p>They <i>do</i>. Good Lord, do they ever. Isabella has her own apartment in Halifax, and they spend hours tangled up together. The nickname “Tib” sticks, and Anne starts to forget the heartache of losing Eliza. Tib is a good teacher, and Anne is an avid learner. She shows Anne different positions, how to go down on a woman, which fingers are best for what and when. It’s during this time that Anne starts to feel uncomfortable with penetration; she just doesn’t like it, and Tib doesn’t push her. Tib, for her part, loves it.</p><p>“No, <i>there</i>,” Tib says firmly, adjusting Anne’s hand. “Do you - unh - do you feel that? How it feels a little different?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Anne breathes, massaging the spongy spot in Tib’s core.</p><p>“That’s - that’s my g-spot. Alright? Every woman has one, but most of them don’t know. That’s how you keep them coming back, especially the straight ones.”</p><p>Anne starts moving slowly, trying to focus on Tib’s g-spot and her clit and the curve of her own hand.</p><p>“Do you do that a lot?” Anne asks her. “Sleep with straight women?”</p><p>“They’re not straight when I’m done with them,” Tib laughs breathlessly.</p><p>“But do you?”</p><p>“A fair amount.” Tib’s hips are now pressing back into Anne’s hand. “It’s sort of the only way.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“If you’re going to - fuck - to stay in Halifax, you’d better get used to it, Lister. There’s hardly a flock of dykes coming to Halifax and Shibden bloody Hall.”</p><p>Anne takes this lesson to heart, as Tib writhes and bucks under her. It’s rough and fast, as much of their coupling is; Tib reaches for her, but Anne is thinking. She wants to stay at Shibden forever, but she also wants to have a partner. It wouldn’t be legally recognized, but she wants someone to share her evening hour. Tib would never do; she’s already made it clear that she’s seeing other women. Anne wants to have a woman for herself. She never forgets Tib’s warning. </p><p>When she’s nineteen, Anne starts to branch out and pick up women in town. Her uncle and aunt are out of town for a weekend, and she and Tib decide to get into some mischief. Tib loves to drink, but Anne doesn’t let that bother her. They start drinking before noon and stumble back to Shibden in the early afternoon, two giggling co-eds in tow. They split up, and Anne gets to work on this gorgeous blonde whose name might be Julia. </p><p>She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, straddled by this hot, wanton girl; Anne’s hand is just slipping between her legs, when the door swings open. They start back at the sight of Tib, who sways and slurs her way into the room.</p><p>“Rooting around in there is she?” Tib reaches her hand down to cover Anne’s, angling it firmly and drawing a moan from Maybe Julia. “There it is, pup.” </p><p>Tib pats her head affectionately on her way out the door. Anne’s face is burning, but Potentially Julia doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by Tib’s intrusion. In fact, she’s delighted by it, by Anne’s thumb now pressing against her clit, her fingers curling inside her, her free hand pulling her too-tight shirt over her head. </p><p>It’s then, just as Anne buries her face in Probably Julia’s ample breasts, that the door swings open again.</p><p>Jeremy.</p><p>He says nothing. His shocked face surely mirrors Anne’s. He closes the door, and Anne shakes it off. She manages to get Wait-Maybe-It’s-Judy off once, then twice, but pulls away when she reaches for Anne’s belt. </p><p>“I’m all good,” she tells her with a smile.</p><p>It-Was-Judy-All-Along doesn’t seem to mind, gathering her clothes and kissing Anne on the cheek on her way out the door. Once she’s gone, Anne groans and flops backward in the bed. It takes her thirty-seven minutes to muster the courage to face Jeremy.</p><p>“Father,” she says quietly as she approaches him in the living room. Tib seems to have disappeared; Anne thanks God for small miracles. “Um, I -”</p><p>“No need.” Jeremy holds a single hand up. “Marian and I are staying for the weekend.”</p><p>“I didn’t mean for you to -”</p><p>“I understand, Anne,” he says carefully, though he doesn’t meet her eye. “Well, I don’t know if I understand, but - but I’m going to leave you alone.”</p><p>“Thank you,” she says quietly, though she’s not sure why. </p><p>It’s not exactly the most supportive statement a father could make, but Anne appreciates it. It’s the late ‘90s, and her father has always been a disappointment; she takes what she can get. </p><p>It doesn’t matter anyway, because the next year, when she’s twenty and freshly starting uni, she meets Mariana Belcombe. Nothing and no one could keep her from pursuing this petite brunette with the knowing smirk. </p><p>She’s late to starting uni, with the expulsion and the self-teaching, but she’s determined to do well. For the first few months, she is the consummate student. Studying and asking questions and going to office hours. And then she meets Mariana. </p><p>She’s beautiful; that much goes without saying. Her hair is short, barely dusting her shoulders, light brown with honey streaks. She wears thick makeup, though it looks natural on her; her lips are blood-red, which seems to fit perfectly on her naughty smirk. Her eyes are playful, daring, endless. She’s so petite and curvy and gorgeous. Anne is drawn to her like a moth to a flame.</p><p>It’s only a few hours before Anne kisses her. Their lips mold together like they were made for each other; Anne decides that they are. </p><p>Unlike the other women in Anne’s past, Mariana teases her. She won’t sleep with her that first night. She won’t sleep with her the second time they bump into each other. It’s not until the third time they meet up, an actual proper date, that Mariana agrees to sneak into Shidben with her. Anne is still staying with her uncle, and they giggle breathlessly as they race up the stairs.</p><p>“This is where you live?” Mariana asks, grinning but scrunching up her nose.</p><p>“Yeah.” Anne pulls her into her bedroom. “Do you like it?”</p><p>“No,” Mariana says simply, and before Anne can question her, she’s kissing her, pulling at her clothes and shoving her onto the bed.</p><p>It’s the best, the sex that they have. The best Anne has ever had. Mariana is good - Good <i>Lord</i> is she good - and she is easily the most beautiful woman Anne has ever been with. Her skin is creamy, just the faintest of tan lines where she clearly wore a skimpy bikini all summer. Mariana’s moans are the best she’s ever heard. Her arousal is the sweetest Anne has ever tasted. When she reaches between Anne’s legs, Anne lets her. She doesn’t go inside, her fingers move lazily over Anne’s clit, but it’s enough. </p><p>From that night forward, Anne is obsessed with her. She still sees Tib, but she stops sleeping with her. Kind of. Anne thinks of Mariana as her girlfriend, but Mary won’t commit to that. When Mary pulls away, Anne runs to Tib. When Mary comes back, Anne pushes Tib away. It’s vicious and messy, and Anne barely keeps up with her studies.</p><p>She turns twenty-one in Mariana’s arms. They had stayed up late, and Mariana makes her come just as the old grandfather clock strikes midnight. Anne starts to cry from the intensity of the orgasm, the beauty of the moment, the realization of her dreams.</p><p>“Are you crying?” Mary asks, her brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled.</p><p>“I love you,” Anne says, reaching for her.</p><p>“And I love you, Fred,” Mary answers, but she’s already gone. Gone into the bathroom to wash the scent of their lovemaking from her body.</p><p>Anne stares up at the ceiling, ignoring the emptiness of the bed and focusing on the residual high of her climax. It’s good, Anne thinks; it’s great. Mary is the one for her. How incredibly easy her life is, she muses as Mary climbs into bed. It’s so simple. She ran into the woman of her dreams at a house party. What are the odds?</p><p>It’s a blur, the next year. The push and pull with Mary. The endless readings and lectures and essays at school. The work on the estate. The drama withTib. It’s constant and exhausting and amazing. Anne asks Mariana to marry her on their second anniversary.</p><p>“Fred,” Mary says slowly, “we can’t get married. It’s not - it’s not possible.”</p><p>“I know.” Anne looks down at the tiny diamond ring in her hands; it was all she could afford. “I know, but we could be married, you know, just in our hearts. Between us and God.”</p><p>“I’m not sure God would approve either.”</p><p>“He would,” Anne says urgently. “I know He would.”</p><p>“Well, alright,” Mary answers, allowing Anne to slip the ring on her finger and toss her into bed. </p><p>The next morning, however, Mary slips the ring off her finger with a regretful frown. </p><p>“I don’t think it’s wise,” she says gently. “I’m just not the marriage kind. Can’t you trust what we have? I don’t need a ring to know I love you.”</p><p>“Okay,” Anne says, even as her stomach twists. “Okay, sure.”</p><p>She barely has time to mope about this latest blow, before a message comes from Sam’s commanding officer. Aunt Anne urges her to turn around, to put down her pen, but Anne is focused on something. Faintly, she can hear only snatches of Aunt Anne’s trembling voice as she reads.</p><p>“Private Samuel Lister… killed in the midst of action… body cannot be recovered… honorable… condolences… hero.”</p><p>Anne says nothing, letting the reality of the situation hit her squarely in the gut. She goes through none of those stages of grief; instead, she lands firmly in acceptance. Sam is gone. He’s gone, and she’s alone now. She’s wasting her time on Mariana Belcombe and Isabella Norcliffe, when she needs to be earning her degree to make up for what he’s lost. Sam always wanted to go to university; he always said he’d go after he got out. </p><p>“Anne?” Her aunt says softly. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“I’m always alright,” she says firmly. “I have so much work to do.”</p><p>It’s a blur, from then on. She focuses on her studies so much that Mariana breaks up with her, complaining that Anne no longer has the time for her, that she’s gotten too butch, that she’s no fun anymore. Anne can admit, she isn’t much fun. It’s all dead poets, hour after hour, line after line. At least these men are meant to be dead. At least they lived out their entire lives. At least they were allowed wives and children and more than two decades. When she finally surrenders Ovid and Homer each afternoon, she turns to the estate, working until her body is exhausted enough to sleep. That nightly oblivion is the only time that she gets any peace from her racing thoughts.    </p><p>Anne graduates early, completing all necessary course requirements and skipping the ceremony. It doesn’t matter, the pomp and circumstance. Who would she celebrate with? She has a polite lunch with Uncle James and Aunt Ann, then gets absolutely obliterated with Tib. They try to have sex, but they’re too drunk. They wake up the next morning, sickly and weak and dehydrated, their hands in each other’s pants. </p><p>She misses Mariana, but she’s not ready to recommit. Tib is a passing dalliance, one moment hot and exciting, the next moment aggravating and dull. She yearns for a stable companion, but she isn’t sure she can handle it. The emotions or the physicality. Occasionally she ventures out for fresh masturbation fodder. She can’t bear to be touched by anyone other than herself, but she longs for the warmth of another woman’s legs, the comfort of her lips, the validation of delivering her to orgasm. </p><p>It’s this way, nine months after her brother’s death, that twenty-three-year-old Anne finds herself rutting frantically into a woman called Fiona, racing against the heavy tread of her husband in the hallway. She’s brought Fiona over the edge twice, but she’s so close to a third. Fiona grabs at her back, presses her full breasts desperately into Anne’s shirt, lifting her hips to take Anne’s fingers deeper. She’s just coming unraveled, with a broken cry, as the door flings open. Anne hops to her feet, adjusting her shirt and smoothing down her short hair. The husband is brutish, too large to chase her but certainly able to land a punch. Anne steps aside, gesturing broadly to the writhing, sweaty, naked, sated heap that is his wife.</p><p>“<i>That</i> is how she should look when you’re done with her.”</p><p>Anne runs out the door, leaps down the stairs, flying into Sam’s Jeep and slamming the door. When she gets far enough away, she throws her head back and laughs. It’s the most fun she’s had in a long time.</p><p>After that, she reaches out to Mary again. She’s ready to be fun, to focus on Mary, to give their relationship another chance. Mary dodges her calls. One night, Tib sits her down with a newspaper folded to the engagement announcements. There, in grubby black and white, is the love of Anne’s life. She’s smiling widely to the camera, her arm around the exceptionally round belly of a man with a receding hairline. Charles Lawton. Anne clenches her jaw.</p><p>The sex she has with Tib that night is rough, furious, not nearly satisfying enough. It’s not Tib’s fault. She can’t help it that she’s not Mariana. For about two months, Anne kicks herself for losing Mary. She consoles herself with work and Tib and more work. Finally, on a Tuesday night, Mary calls. </p><p>They meet at a dingy bar near Tib’s, and Mary explains everything.</p><p>“I was lonely, Fred. You can’t blame me for that.”</p><p>“Of course not,” Anne answers automatically, grateful just to be holding her hand on this sticky bar. </p><p>“He’s a widower. Very wealthy, and I - I need someone to take care of me.”</p><p>“I can take care of you,” Anne insists.</p><p>“You can’t, Fred,” Mary says gently. “Not like he can. I’ll - look, I still love you. Surely you must know that.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“But I need to - I need a certain kind of life, Freddie. He won’t live long.”</p><p>“Are you serious?” Anne is willing to accept a lot of things, but this seems particularly cut-throat, even for Mary. </p><p>“I don’t mean it like that, but - well, he’s a nice old man. He can - I can help him live out his last few years. His health isn’t very good, and he has no children. I’ll stick it out, and then - then, when we’re ready, we can be together.”</p><p>“I’m ready now.”</p><p>“You’re not,” Mary says gently, cupping Anne’s cheek in her hand. “You need to get your degree and inherit Shibden and establish yourself. Then you’ll be ready. And I will be too.”</p><p>It doesn’t occur to Anne, not in this moment, that Mary is being less than genuine. She ignores the fact that she’s already earned her degree and Mary doesn’t seem to know. She isn’t aware that Charles Lawton is only in his mid-fifties and hardly on death’s door. She can’t know, in fact, that Mary had been flirting with him for over a year, even while they were still together. Tonight, in this dim bar, she is just relieved to be in the presence of Mariana Belcombe again. To feel the warmth of her skin and to see the glint in her eyes. That is enough. For now.</p><p>By the time the wedding rolls around, Anne has adjusted to this <i>Twilight Zone</i> version of her life. She is eager to see Mary in her wedding dress, almost eager enough to forget that it’ll be Charles at the end of the aisle, not Anne. She meets Mary in the bridal suite a few minutes before the service, and the sight of her in that long white gown takes Anne’s breath. </p><p>“Have you got them?” Mary asks urgently.</p><p>“Yes.” Anne produces the rings she and Mary purchased last weekend. “Here we are.”</p><p>On the dressing table, there are the two bands Charles and Mariana will exchange at the altar. Anne plucks the slender one and replaces it with the one in her hand. Mary slips the other ring onto Anne’s left hand; Anne pockets the ring Charles bought, intending to toss it in the trash at Shibden. Mary kisses her gently. </p><p>“It’s just a formality, Fred. Patience. We’ll be together.”</p><p>Anne nods, steals another kiss from her bride, and slips out. She disappears into the crowd, clenching her fist and grinding her teeth throughout the service. It’s torture, standing here next to Tib. She feels conspicuous in her black suit; Mariana didn’t mention it, but Anne had seen the look in her eye. She knew what it meant. Anne is in mourning. </p><p>Anne is twenty-five, and she’s committed to perpetual mourning. From now until the day she and Mary can be together. As the service progresses, as the couple pledges their love, as they share the Sacrament, Anne mourns. She mourns for Mariana, who has decided that financial security is more important than love. She mourns for their relationship, the strong connection they shared, the laughter and the sex and the conversation. She mourns, finally, for herself. For the person she was. She’d thought so much was possible. She’d wanted so much, and she’d achieved so little. She mourns for the dreams that die as Charles Lawton kisses his bride.</p><p>She makes eyes at Louisa Belcombe throughout the reception. If she can’t have the bride on her wedding night, perhaps the bridesmaid would do. </p><p>She has to stop herself, as she and Lou tumble into her hotel room. Lou looks so like her sister - a little thinner here, heavier there. Her eyes aren’t quite as vibrant. Her hair a bit lighter. She’s a close stand-in, but she’s not Mary. Anne has to remind herself to go easy on the poor girl.</p><p>“I’ve never -” Lou breathes, as Anne unzips her dress.</p><p>“That’s alright,” Anne says gently. “We can stop any time you want.”</p><p>“I don’t want to stop.”</p><p>Anne grins, leaning Lou gently back into the crisp white sheets. Lou is eager, like a newborn colt on spindly legs. She lets Anne undress her; she even tries to get Anne out of her tuxedo. Anne keeps her shorts and undershirt on, distracting Lou with a hungry kiss. Lou is receptive, so very receptive to Anne’s roaming hands and greedy lips. It’s close - it’s so fucking close. The way her hips roll and the sounds she makes and the way she feels underneath Anne. With her eyes closed, Anne can imagine she’s touching Mariana. </p><p>The next day, Lou makes her excuses and regrets. Anne watches her go, clutching her shoes to her chest; she knows Lou will never tell what they’ve done. Besides, Anne is about to join the newly minted couple on their honeymoon. Out of sight, out of mind. </p><p>The most interesting part of the trip, frankly, is Nantz Belcombe. Nantz and Anne have been invited on the honeymoon for unclear reasons - something about tradition and company and sharing their wedded bliss. Anne finds Nantz tantalizing. She’s got the innocence of Lou and the charm of Mariana. Anne makes it her mission to bed her before the week is out. Yes, sure, she took Mary’s ring, and yes, sure, they are <i>supposed</i> to be waiting for each other. But every night Anne watches Charles lay his flabby arm along the back of Mariana’s chair, squeeze her shoulder with a meaty paw, or - horror of horrors - kiss her lips with his mealy, unpracticed mouth. Anne can tell, just from watching him eat, that he’s bad in bed. She narrows her eyes at the evening meal they share together each night, assessing this man who has so complicated her life. </p><p>After supper, Anne takes solace in long talks with Nantz. They snuggle up in bed, chatting like sisters and touching like teenagers. Nantz pretends she doesn’t notice the way Anne’s hand trails up her bare thigh or the gentle circles her fingertips trace over her hip. Anne doesn’t call attention to her slow, teasing touches, but she knows Nantz is affected. She blushes just like her sister. Both of her sisters, Anne thinks with a smirk. </p><p>“What are you laughing at?” Nantz asks her scooting a little closer. They’re laying on their sides, heads on the pillows, Anne’s hand on Nantz’s hip. </p><p>“I was wondering what Mariana and Charles are doing right now.” She was doing nothing of the sort; in fact, she tried to think of their bedroom activities as little as possible. However, this was an opening. A way to get Nantz to think about sex. “Do you think they’re having as much fun as we are?”</p><p>“Doubtful,” Nantz giggles. “She says he’s a bore.”</p><p>“Does she?” Anne scoots closer, their breaths mingling between them. </p><p>“Can barely get it up.”</p><p>Anne wrinkles her nose at the thought, but she shoves it aside. The task at hand is too pressing. Burying her face between Nantz’s legs will serve two purposes: first, to take her mind off Charles Lawton’s limp penis, and, second, to inflate her own ego. Mariana may not have chosen her, but at least Anne can rest assured that she is the best lover Mary will ever have. </p><p>“Such a shame,” she husks, “don’t you think? So many men don’t know how to please a woman.”</p><p>“I know,” Nantz groans. “My boyfriend is a nightmare. I’m, like, teaching him anatomy.”</p><p>“Are you?”</p><p>“Yes,” Nantz breathes, and Anne can see the change in her eyes.</p><p>Anne can tell Mariana’s sister wants her. Is there any greater accomplishment? Ravishing your ex’s sister, knowing said ex is having disappointing sex next door with a man twice her age? When Anne finally surfaces, hours later, her face glistening with Nantz’s arousal, she knows this to be the absolute pinnacle of accomplishment. </p><p>As fun as Nantz was on the trip, when Anne returns to Shibden, she’s jolted back to reality. Her uncle is in poor health. She takes over minding the estate, and a year passes. It’s a blur. Mariana has settled into life as Mrs. Lawton quite comfortably, and Anne starts to wear that stupid ring on a chain. That tender kiss in the dressing room seems like another lifetime. Anne isn’t ready to give up all hope, but she can’t handle seeing the gold band on her finger all day long. </p><p>Her uncle passes away peacefully, and Ane is ashamed to admit that her first thought is relief. Relief that he is no longer suffering, and, perhaps more, relief that she can now run the estate as she wishes. The realization of her own greed overwhelms her, and she spends hours on her knees, begging God for forgiveness. No one could have done more for a shabby, headstrong girl than Uncle James did for Anne. She berates herself for her greed, burying herself in estate management to try to make up for it.</p><p>Mariana comes to the funeral. It’s the first time Anne has seen her in months. Anne and Aunt Anne follow the casket out of the church; Anne has to support her aunt, who is crumbling under the loss of her best friend. As she walks to the back of the church, Anne feels a strong hand grip her wrist. It’s Mariana. Her face is impassive; her eyes well with tears. Anne can feel her emotion through the tight curl of her fingers. It’s an incredibly intense moment, and then it’s over. She and her aunt greet people after the burial, but Mariana does not appear. </p><p>It’s a few weeks after this that Mariana calls her. She’s thinking of leaving Charles. Anne has to steady herself on her desk. She worries she might pass out. She has Shibden, and soon she’ll have Mary? It’s almost too much to believe. </p><p>The next night, she goes to a Christmas party at Old Mrs. Rawson’s house. It’s a dull affair, as usual, but Anne doesn’t mind. Mariana has that dress on. That tight one that shows every line of her body. From across the room, Anne can tell she isn’t wearing underwear. She stuffs her hand in her pocket and clenches it tightly. Mariana saunters over to her, whispers in her ear.</p><p>“Toilet. Two minutes. I’m already wet.”</p><p>She’s not sure what excuse she makes to the people she’s talking to. Does it matter? She rushes to the bathroom, locking the door behind her and pouncing on Mariana. It has been months since Anne felt her love’s lips on hers, her hips beneath her hands, her warm body molding to her own. </p><p>“Naughty girl,” she purrs in Mary’s ear, slipping her hand down to bunch up her dress. “With Charles in the next room?”</p><p>“Come on, Fred.” Mariana pulls her belt open. “Doesn’t it make you hot?”</p><p>It does. Of course it does. Anne is burning up, almost vibrating from the need for Mariana’s insistent, demanding touch. She thrusts sharply between Mary’s legs, relishing her familiar warmth, her intoxicating wetness. </p><p>“Does he get you this wet?” Anne breathes. rolling her hips urgently as Mariana palms her through her boxers. </p><p>“No. Only you, Fred.”</p><p>It’s a whisper. It’s a promise. It’s enough to keep Anne going for years to come. She thrusts harder, kissing and licking and nipping along Mary’s neck. Moaning wantonly, Mariana abandons Anne’s shorts, wrapping her hands around Anne’s back, bucking her hips urgently into Anne’s hand. Anne misses the warmth of her hand on her center, but she makes do with Mariana’s bare thigh, grinding her hips down and searching for friction. The tiny bathroom is heating up. Their needy grunts and breathless moans ricochet off the walls. Mary kisses her firmly, as her hips jerk with the first wave of her climax. The familiarity of Mariana’s release thrills her; she’s missed this. </p><p>“Fred, oh, fuck,” Mary whines as she shudders in Anne’s arms. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”</p><p>That’s all she needs to hear. Anne can’t ask for anything more. She’s been waiting to hear this exact string of words for months. Years. She doesn’t dare to ask for more. Instead, she grinds against Mariana’s thigh, snaking her hand into her own shorts to stroke her clit. It only takes a few movements, and she’s coming too. Mary’s hands roam across her back. Her soft lips press against her neck. It’s perfect. What else could she want? </p><p>“I better go,” Mary says, kissing her one last time before scooting past her to wash her hands.</p><p>“Did you mean it?” Anne asks as she re-tucks her shirt. “What you said yesterday?”</p><p>“Yes,” Mary says, her eyes trained on her hands. “I’ll - uh - I’ll call you this week and give you the details.”</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>Mary smiles and kisses her, and then she’s gone. </p><p>In the morning, Anne trots over to Crow Nest to visit the Walkers. She’s been trying to ingratiate herself to the neighbors, establish a social circle worthy of the Mistress of Shibden Hall. Besides, she’d like to impress Mary with her well-connected friends when she moves in; Mary has always been so skeptical of Halifax’s social scene. Crow Nest is immaculate, and Anne tries to turn her envy into curiosity. She makes a note to ask Mrs. Walker about her garden. There’s an extra pep in her step this morning; under her black suit, she’s wearing bright green socks. Mariana’s heavy breathing still echoes in her ears. Anne fancies she can still feel her hands on her back. Perhaps, after two years, her period of mourning is ending. </p><p>“Welcome, Miss Lister,” Mrs. Walker says brightly as the butler leads Anne into the room. “Lovely to see you.”</p><p>“You have a gorgeous home.” Anne kisses her on both cheeks. “I am dying to know how you got your flowerbeds so full.”</p><p>They sit down, Anne in a straight-backed chair and her host on the sofa. The room is bright with the morning sun, and they settle into an easy conversation. Mrs. Walker is a kind-looking woman; even just the architecture of her face seems generous. Anne enjoys speaking with her, appreciates the opulence of the living room, revels in her new social station. </p><p>The door squeaks open, and a short girl appears. She’s blonde and slight and clad in a light pink turtleneck and grey skirt. She has her fists curled in the sleeves of her shirt and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Mrs. Walker pats the sofa next to her.</p><p>“Come on, Annie. I’m sure Miss Lister doesn’t mind. Miss Lister, this my youngest daughter, Ann.”</p><p>“Lovely name,” Anne purrs. “That’s my name as well.”</p><p>The girl flushes, and Anne winks. Such a shame she’s so young, Anne thinks. Barely a teenager. She’s quite beautiful, Anne thinks, with the kind face of her mother, a hint of the sincerity and depth in her eyes that Eliza used to have. She’ll be stunning as an adult. Anne wrenches herself away, back into the conversation with the mother. When she leaves an hour later, Anne is still thinking of little Ann Walker. What a strange pull she felt to her. Anne banishes the thought. She’s a child. </p><p>Mariana phones in the afternoon, outlining her plan. She’ll get Charles to draw up his will, a sort of post-nup that will ensure she is provided for even in the case of a divorce. Then she’ll leave Charles and establish her own home. She can still see Anne, but she’ll have to wait until the divorce is finalized to go public. It’s better for the courts, Mariana explains. Then, in just a few years, Mariana can move into Shibden. There is light at the end of the tunnel. </p><p>Anne tries to focus on Mariana’s words, on the logistics, on the complicated web of events that would bring her love to her. Everything used to be so simple, she thinks with a sigh. It felt simple with Eliza. It felt simple with Mariana, in the beginning. Now, there are lawyers and the estate and family members and bank accounts - a spiraling chain of dominoes that have to line up just right to bring Anne’s life together. She thinks vaguely of Ann Walker and the strange calm she felt in Crow Nest; perhaps her life would be different if she’d grown up in that bright, airy house or shared an attic room with Ann Walker. She shakes it off, feeling like a creep. The girl is still in school, she scolds herself. This is her life. Her complicated life. </p><p>Over dinner, Aunt Anne tells her about Eliza Raine. Psychotic break. She’s to be hospitalized, perhaps indefinitely. Anne’s gut twists. She hasn’t spoken to Eliza since she was expelled a dozen years ago. She makes a note to visit her as soon as Eliza is allowed visitors. Oh, Eliza, she thinks mournfully, what has become of us? What she wouldn’t give to be back in that attic room, a girl about Ann Walker’s age, reveling in her first love. It had been so easy, then, hadn’t it? Anne thought life was simple and that God had given her any easy path. </p><p>Now, at the ripe old age of twenty-seven, Anne feels herself harden into a dry, cynical shell. She is no longer the bright-eyed, high-spirited girl who loved too hard and wanted too much. She is the mysterious Mistress of Shibden Hall, monochromatic and mournful in her attire, dry and sharp in her conversation, ruthless and calculating in her business dealings. She longs for a bright home full of life and love, but she resigns herself to the dark, brooding paneling of Shibden. Perhaps, she muses, she shall become dark and brooding herself.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!!</p><p>This was a fun one to write, and I’ll do the second half of her life tomorrow. I cannot tell you how much I appreciated annelistertimeline.com. Seriously, that resource is amazing. All the props and credit to whomever put that together. A godsend, and it has tons of information, excerpts, pictures. Really recommend if you’re looking for something to scroll through.</p><p>Mostly, I tried to stick to that timeline, AKA Anne’s real life. The biggest departure is Anne’s inheriting Shibden at 27 rather than 35. That’s because I already set it up as the day she wore the green socks to Crow Nest when Ann was 15. That’s just dumbassery on my part, didn’t check my sources on when Anne would’ve inherited. Since it’s already ingrained in this story more than once, I figured it was important to keep it in line. Isn’t it incredible the mark that Anne left on Shibden having been the owner for less than 15 years? </p><p>Shoutout to anyone who can spot the Hamilton reference. I cannot be stopped. </p><p>I also feel like Young Pup Anne is kind of a prick, but also that’s who she is? So I tried to portray her as sort of shitty and self-centered and volatile, because I think that’s accurate to who she is. I don’t know. I’m shying away from thinking of her as “unlikeable,” because I do think she’s likable, overall. She’s just also a prick. She feels like a friend that I can’t help defending, despite her foolishness. What do you think?</p><p>Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. The Potential For Sapphism Is Off The Charts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ok a liiiitle experiment on this one - a frame narrative? to tell the second half of Anne’s life in first person? kind of? please be gentle</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is boring,” Ann pouted, flipping her sketchbook closed and tossing Anne’s book to the floor; “tell me a story. Something with me in it.”</p><p>“With you in it?” Anne teased, pulling Ann into her chest. “Aren’t you interested in my life before you?”</p><p>“I <i>guess</i>. It’s just not as interesting.”</p><p>Anne chuckled and squeezed her wife’s hips. They were curled up in the parlor, a rare blizzard raging outside. Ann playfully hooked her foot around Anne’s ankle, rubbing her back against Anne’s chest.</p><p>“Tell me about what you did after the green socks.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“I saw you on that day with your hot little green socks, and then what? What happened after that?”</p><p>“Well,” Anne inhaled, “Mary took it all back. I’ve told you that. I guess the next big thing was my mother dying.”</p><p>“Oh, Pony, I’m sorry. Never mind.”</p><p>“No, no, that’s okay. I should tell you these things, shouldn’t I?”</p><p>Anne hummed, trying to figure out how to approach this one. Ann leaned into her chest. </p><p>“Well, it was bound to happen. My mother dying, I mean. She’d been on borrowed time for years. The drinking had her in rough shape, and Father had basically given up trying to get her to quit. I was here, with Aunt, and I really very rarely saw her at all. The last time I did, she was draining a bottle of gin and screaming at me about getting expelled from Ripon. It was like she’d reverted or something; she couldn’t remember I was an adult. So honestly, uh, I hate to say it, but I felt relieved as soon as I heard.</p><p>“I feel that way a lot with death, to be honest. I felt that way with my uncle. I didn’t feel that way with Sam, but that - that was different.” Ann murmured softly, tracing gentle circles along Anne’s forearm. “I was just glad, um, that - that she was free. We were free. The funeral was surreal. Funerals usually are, I think. I remember Mariana was there, and we were on the outs, and I was so - God, I was so angry with her for being there.</p><p>“We were arguing, who can even remember why, and she just showed up. Just like that. How can you be mad at someone who brings a covered dish to your mother’s wake? She tried calling me, but I iced her out for a few weeks. It was weird. You know how it is to lose a parent, and you were a lot younger than I was. It’s like all of a sudden, you’re actually an adult. The pressure is so real. All of a sudden. And I - I know you didn’t have your mother for very long, but I wonder if you saw this with her. After your father passed. I saw my father as a vulnerable person for the first time, you know? I saw him cry and stare into space and accept handshakes from strangers. It was bewildering.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ann said softly. “Mum was like that. She went from being one half of this, like, superhuman pair, to being a - I don’t know, like this shell of herself. She was diminished.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Anne nodded. “Yeah, it was - it was strange. It made me feel - oh, I don’t know - childish. Like I missed my mum, though I never had in the past. Aunt Anne and I got really drunk one night right after. She had this amazing record player back then, and all these records. I wonder if she still has them; she’d be a fool to have gotten rid of them. Anyway, we let the records play through and we drank our wine, and then Billie Holiday came on. “Good Morning Heartache.” I finally broke down to that song. Aunt Anne cried, and I cried and screamed and tore my clothes. We broke something - a vase maybe? I don’t remember. It was cathartic and painful and lovely.”</p><p>Ann hummed quietly; they were both staring out the window at the falling snow. Anne was surprised by how good it felt to speak these memories into existence. She’d only ever written them down. </p><p>“Then we started planning our grand European tour.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” Anne chuckled. “Aunt Anne and I went to France for about six months. We got ourselves an apartment, and we muddled together some meals. I couldn’t cook yet, not then. It was on that trip that I decided to get my doctorate. I was able to audit some classes then. Classics and literature, but also science - these excellent lectures on anatomy, sometimes even the labs. I dissected a baby, have I told you that? It was really incredible. It was - no, never mind. </p><p>“Anyway, we spent an incredible six months. It was my first time in Paris, and I fell in love. With the city, Adney! Aunt Anne had been before, and she showed me a few of the sights. I was so busy exploring and attending lectures and applying to grad school that I didn’t shag anyone, can you believe it? All those beautiful French women, and I kept my nose in my book. First time ever. Last time, too.</p><p>“It all changed, of course, when I got to graduate school, and I met Sibella. Sibella Maclean was stout and Scottish and so, so smart; she had this wild, curly red hair that flowed down nearly to her bum, and she was athletic - a hiker, with calves like steel. I was obsessed with her the moment I laid my eyes on her. As is often the case, as you know. She was a TA for one of my professors -not my TA, mind you - but that’s how we met. </p><p>“I’m amazed, really, when I think back to that time, that I managed to get any schoolwork done at all. I’d spend my weeks at the university, shagging her in this little closet of an office and in the stacks and in my Jeep. Then I’d spend all weekend writing up a week’s worth of instructions for Shibden, chatting with Aunt Anne, and shagging Mariana when she deigned to drop by. It was such a complicated schedule, really, I - can you imagine if I’d had iCal back then? I’d have been unstoppable.</p><p>“It was a whirlwind of books and breasts and - damn, I wish I could think of a third ‘b’ word - building. Books and breasts and building. Title of my autobiography, eh? No, something better than that. Anyway, anyway, Sibella was incredible. Still is, I imagine. I follow her on Twitter. She’s a professor too, somewhere. I haven't seen her in awhile. Perhaps I should look her up.”</p><p>Ann scoffed, pinching Anne’s arm and breaking the spell of her monologue. Chuckling, Anne kissed the top of her head and continued. </p><p>“Now, Adney, don’t get jealous.</p><p>“Alright, so by this point I’m turning thirty or thereabouts. Can you believe it? What an old lady. And everything starts to move in double time. In just a few short weeks, I break Mariana’s hymen, I get chased down you, and then I fracture all of it with Mary. I guess, actually, that was around this time when I was thirty, going into spring, about to turn thirty-one. I’d have to look at my journals to be sure.”</p><p>“You broke Mariana’s hymen? Pony. I - I’m not sure I want to know about that.”</p><p>“No, no, right.” Anne shook her head. “I’ll skip it. Anyway, that day that you chased me down, I’d just come from -”</p><p>“Wasn’t she married?” Ann interrupted.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Hadn’t Mariana been married for, like, five years by then?”</p><p>“Well, yes,” Anne chuckled. </p><p>“How did she - never mind.”</p><p>“Adney,” she teased, drawing the words out, “what are you trying to say?”</p><p>“Nothing!” Ann said quickly, toying with Anne’s fingers in her lap. “Well, I just - I mean I just <i>wonder</i>.”</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>“Since you brought it up.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“How is that even possible?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“That she still had her -” Ann scoffed, “oh, forget it.”</p><p>“No, no,” Anne laughed, “I asked that, too. She brought it up, and I said what you just did, and she got so <i>angry</i>. ‘You don’t know what it’s like, Fred!’ ‘I bloody well don’t,’ I told her. And then she -”</p><p>“Why’d she call you Fred?” Ann interrupted.</p><p>“Oh, she - I think I said once that my parents were going to name me Fred - Frederick - if I’d been a boy. She latched onto that - ‘oh, wouldn’t it be lovely, if you’d been a man, Freddie?’”</p><p>“I don’t think so,” Ann said simply. “I don’t think that would be lovely at all.”</p><p>“Me neither,” Anne whispered, trying not to betray the sudden quaver in her voice; how did Ann always know just what she wanted to hear?</p><p>“Besides, it sounds like that husband didn’t do much for her.” Ann giggled, turning Anne’s ring around her on her long pointer finger. “Certainly not as much as you could do.”</p><p>“She told me once,” Anne whispered softly into her wife’s ear, “that Mr. Charles Lawton had never been more than an inch deep.” She paused, noting Ann’s sharp intake of breath. “At the time, you know, it was very flattering.”</p><p>“I bet,” Ann breathed.</p><p>“I thought, back then, that it meant - uh, that it meant that she had never belonged to anyone but to me. That clearly it was proof of our - our connection and our - oh, who knows. It was foolish. Grasping at straws. Because, really, uh, it doesn’t matter. It’s all made up anyway, just a societal construct that some people have decided is important. Well, I’ve decided it isn’t.”</p><p>Ann nodded but said nothing. Anne fancied she knew what she was thinking, so she tried to continue delicately.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter who or what breaks it. It’s a bit of tissue. I don’t - it isn’t important. I - please don’t think I have any ideas about that. It does not matter. It doesn’t mean a damn thing.”</p><p>“Right,” Ann said softly, and Anne decided not to push it. The less said about that wretch the better. “That makes sense.”</p><p>“In better news, shortly after that, I was flagged down by a breathless little thing by the name of Ann Walker.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?”</p><p>“Yep. Gorgeous girl. I’ve told you that story, my love.”</p><p>“Tell it again. Or, tell me what you thought of me.”</p><p>Ann snuggled into her chest, clearly waiting for Anne to continue. Anne kissed the top of her head, affection blooming in her chest for her mercurial little woman. </p><p>“Well, I thought you were beautiful. Of course. I still do. It’s a bit odd, actually, how much I thought about you. There were these - I don’t know - these strings connecting us. I felt pulled to you.</p><p>“Honestly, you wouldn’t believe how much ink I spilled that night about seeing you and flirting with you. Because I was, of course. Flirting with you. Because I was all in on Mary at the time, I really had to convince myself, you know, that it was okay. I’d been wrapped up in the estate so much that I’d grown rather lonely. I missed Mary, but I missed female companionship more. I just - God, I love to flirt. I adore it. It’s - it’s the thrill of the chase, I think, and the building of a physical reaction with nothing but words. </p><p>“You say one thing, and I respond. You start to blush. I say another thing, and now we’re walking. You fidget, maybe pick at your fingernails or twirl your hair. Just with the words I’m saying, I can make your heart race. Isn’t that incredible? The way that a string of syllables can invade our brains and swell our chests and tie us together. Weddings are so powerful for just this reason. We say a handful of words, and we are joined. Two flesh become one. It’s fascinating, isn’t it?”</p><p>Ann hummed softly, her blonde head nodding against Anne’s chest.</p><p>“Right, so when I saw you on the moor that day, it felt so good. Just to talk to you. It was like a weight lifted. I’d been in this stormcloud for so long, with the dark clothes and the estate and my studies, and I was living like a monk. All stoic and refusing life’s joys. I thought it made me more pious, not to take much enjoyment from my life. I was just going to start teaching that fall, and I thought I’d better get serious. You know? Serious Dr. Lister with her serious estate and her serious, closely guarded personal life. </p><p>“We’d never much taken visitors at Shibden, but it was from then on that I essentially forbade it. I would work and plan and wait for Mary. That was my punishment - self-imposed - for shagging a married woman, for hoping for Charles’s death, for my relief at my uncle’s passing, for - God, for all of it. I felt I had to make it right. Live up to the legacy of the Hall and the family name and Sam’s lost future. Good Lord, it felt like a lot of pressure.”</p><p>“It was, Pony. I don’t know how you managed it.”</p><p>“You get used to these things. I did. How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.”</p><p>Ann chuckled, shaking her head. Anne sighed.</p><p>“It was that summer that everything fell apart. With Mary, I mean. We had this plan to go to Scarborough together, and she was having brunch with some friends at this little place along Blackstone Edge. I was supposed to wait for her in Halifax, but I was so excited to see her. I couldn’t wait. I walked all the way to meet her; it was ten miles or so, maybe more. I didn’t even notice. I was - I was all adrenaline. We were taking a proper vacation together. No Charles. Me and Mary and the beach. I was brimming with energy. </p><p>“I got to this little brunch spot, and there were three steps up to the patio. I waved to her from the road; I’m sure I looked a fright, having walked ten bloody miles in the summer heat. I didn’t care. I vaulted up the steps and landed right next to their table, already chattering about something or other. She was mortified. She hardly said a word the entire time I was there. I dropped down into the seat next to her, all splayed out - you know how I sit - and they were just aghast. I can’t - I mean, even now, I‘m embarrassed to think of it. No one said anything for a few moments. I remember snapping up a grape from Mary’s plate and popping it into my mouth, so proud of myself and grinning - oh, Mary just said, ‘you should go wash your hands.’</p><p>“It just crashed into me then. Shame and embarrassment and disappointment. I went into the loo, and I looked like a madwoman. My hair - it was still short then - stuck up at all angles. Somehow I had dirt on my face and my hands. My cheeks were streaked with sweat, and my eyes looked wild. I looked like I’d been in a fight and lost. It was horrible. </p><p>“We went to Scarborough, but Mary basically - uh - refused to be seen with me. She didn’t like my swimming trunks. She didn’t like the way I acted around others, especially at the dinner table. She - I pretty much hid in the hotel all day, reading and sulking and fretting. She’d come in in the evenings, and we’d have sex and - and I thought that was enough.”</p><p>“Pony.” Ann held her hands a bit tighter; Anne wished she would release her so that she could wipe this traitorous tear. “That’s awful.”</p><p>“It was,” Anne admitted. “It was awful. It was - when I look back, that was the moment that everything shattered. She could never be seen with me. She always wanted me to look different and be different. When I was happiest, she was ashamed of me. The fleeting moments that she felt I was presentable were agony for me. I was always talking about something boring, she said. I was tedious and overly excited, somehow at the same time; no matter what I was doing or talking about, she hated it. </p><p>“After that, I grew my hair out. I started teaching. I kept my head down for that first year. Mary and I still saw each other. We still had pretty fantastic sex, I hate to admit, but I couldn’t stop thinking about those three blasted steps. That I had shattered my own illusions in a single bound.</p><p>“It was the next spring that I saw you in town, and I talked about taking you abroad. I was getting ready to go to Paris. A bit of research over the summer. I was on loan to a university there in the fall, so I’d do research and teach a few classes. It was incredible. That’s when I met Maria. She - oh, I’ve never learned so much.”</p><p>“Like what?” Ann’s voice had that saucy edge to it. Anne twisted her hips teasingly against her back. </p><p>“Well, for starters, she bought me my first strap.”</p><p>“She did not!”</p><p>“Hush, darling,” Anne chuckled. “Yes, in fact, she did. I’d always been touchy about it. You know, if you want that, go back to your husband - that was my line. But Maria convinced me, and - Good Lord, what a revelation. I grew my hair out, and I got better at French, and I almost fell for her. Well, if I’m being honest, I did fall for her, but I never treated it seriously. I’ve told you this, I think. She was always like my mistress - hot and fun and different; Mary was my wife - our connection was deeper, but there were times when she felt more like the stereotypical ball and chain. Not to mention Maria had that daughter. I was not interested in being anyone’s stepmum.</p><p>“As I often do, I think I behaved rather badly toward her. I think I could’ve told her more about my relationship with Mary, but it all had to be so secretive. At first, I wouldn’t tell anyone. Then I felt it was only fair to tell anyone I had sex with more than once - which was not many people, but that’s why I told Maria. I should’ve been more honest with her, and I certainly should’ve made a cleaner break when I came back home. If she weren’t so good over the phone, I - no, that’s not fair. I could’ve done better. Not her fault in the slightest. </p><p>“I came back, taught the spring term. Mary was pleased with my growth - my hair and the strap. She was not at all pleased to learn about Maria, though. You know, if I think about it, perhaps that was the inspiration for our Paris trip that summer.  Aunt Anne came, so, ostensibly, the trip was between the two of us. The fact that Mary visited for nearly the entire duration was - a happy coincidence. </p><p>“Juggling the two of them - I never slept with them at the same time, you understand. When I came back to Paris, I only visited Maria as a friend. She was bedridden, prostrate with grief apparently. I - I have wondered if I ruin women or if I am attracted to the already broken. Eliza Raine, for instance. Similar situation. Tib, with the drinking. It only got worse the more we slept together. Then Maria - so vibrant when I was with her, then wailing and begging once I left. Perhaps I am not so gentlemanly in my conduct, and that - that is the effect.”</p><p>“Anne,” her wife said gently. “I - I can’t begin to know what those women went through, but you - you don’t ruin anybody. Anyone who knows you is better for it.”</p><p>“Not Eliza,” she answered sadly. “She’s still - I visited her every month after she was hospitalized. I haven’t been since we got together, actually. The lockdown complicated everything and then - never mind, I should fix that.”</p><p>“I’ll go with you. If you like.”</p><p>“Oh, Ann.” Her heart twisted. “There’s no way I deserve you.”</p><p>“You’re a good person, Pony. Please don’t confuse mistakes with malice. You didn’t hurt anyone intentionally, right?”</p><p>“Of course not.”</p><p>“We’re all just fumbling through this. Don’t beat yourself up. Mental health is not - you didn’t give Eliza Raine mental illness. That is her own journey. Don’t be so self-centered as to think that Tib’s addiction is your fault. Okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Anne smiled softly. “Though I will repeat it: I don’t deserve you.”</p><p>“Well, we knew that already,” Ann chuckled, “so when did you meet this Vere person? What was her deal?”</p><p>“Oh, that was much later. In the year as between Maria and Vere, I was kind of just shuttling around Shibden. I worked hard at the university and got my tenure. My hair grew out, and I was still seeing Mary, though not exclusively. She couldn't - well, you know how I am. Every other weekend was not nearly enough, and I - I couldn’t see a way out. I was treading water, with no real hope of getting Mary permanently. I saw Sibella again, a few one-night stands here and there. Then I met Vere.</p><p>“One of these house parties, you know, and I was in love with her the moment I saw her. Well, the moment after I saw her <i>and</i> learned who she was. Rich and single and from a good family. About my age and unmarried, which, to me, always pointed to success. A beautiful girl like Vere still not married in her late thirties? The potential for sapphism is off the charts.”</p><p>“Pony!” Ann giggled. “You’re bad.”</p><p>“Ah, and wrong. Vere’s favorite joke was that we were a couple. We ate meals together and saw movies and even went to Paris together. We actually set up an apartment in Hastings that summer, oh, right after I turned forty-one. I could hear the clock ticking a bit; over forty and unsettled - I didn’t like the sound of that. Vere was so - I can’t emphasize this enough - breathtakingly stunning.”</p><p>“Pony!”</p><p>“Not as beautiful as you, my love, but really heavenly. She had this dark hair and these piercing eyes, and I’m not really sure what the difference was. Why I was so impossibly attracted to her, but Good Lord, I was. You know, I used to think my type was brunettes. Eliza and Mariana and Tib and Vere. But you,” she trailed her fingers through her wife’s blonde curls, “you are like the sun itself. Perhaps there’s something poetic there. How long I spent in dark clothes and with dark-haired women. I shall have to think more on that. </p><p>“Anyway, Vere loved to joke about our being in a relationship, which, actually, is not a very funny joke. I thought it was her way of bringing it up. Hints. Clues. If we had a bit of wine first, I could get her to sit on my knee. She’d kiss me sometimes, if a guy wouldn’t leave her alone when we were out. Sometimes outside a bar or in our apartment. But always when she was drunk, so I never pushed it. She’d sleep in my bed, complaining about the lack of eligible men. How ‘easy’ it would be to be a lesbian. </p><p>“I should’ve known better.  Never a good sign when she won’t acknowledge it in public. I don’t know why I - I would pine after this girl who essentially ignored me in daylight hours, but I wouldn’t take Tib up on her offers. We weren’t right for each, so that was for the best, but - well, it’s just such a vicious cycle, isn’t it? I run after a girl who doesn’t want me, but I leave a half dozen in my wake to whom I’ve done the same. All those nameless girls in the pubs - what if I’d actually learned their names? Why wouldn’t I? What was I thinking? Might’ve saved myself a bit of heartache if I’d stuck with women who actually wanted me, rather than the ones I wanted.”</p><p>“But, Pony, then you wouldn’t have me.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“If you had done anything differently, who knows if you’d’ve shown up at Crow Nest that day. It’s all worked out perfectly.”</p><p>“I suppose it has,” Anne said happily, sinking down to lie flat, with Ann on her chest and between her legs; she let one foot drop to the floor. </p><p>“How’d it end up with Vere? She married someone else, right?”</p><p>“Yes, well, that was the worst part. She’d been seeing him - Donald - for a few months, I guess, but she hadn’t told me. That fact made me think she knew exactly what she was doing the whole time. She must have. If she didn’t - if she didn’t know how I felt or what I wanted, why did she hide this thing with Donald? If we were just friends, wouldn’t she - wouldn’t she have told me?</p><p>“I shudder to tell you this, but I - I had quite a breakdown about it. I walked in on them - just talking, but the relationship was clear - and he left, and I just - I actually dropped to my knees and wept. I think, um, I think it was less about Vere herself than it was about the - about all of it. I’d passed forty, and what did I have to show for it? It felt like not very much. Sure, there was Shidben and my career, but that - I mean, I was still alone at night. The situation with Mariana wasn’t enjoyable anymore. It was all the worst parts about being married for too long - we squabbled and argued and had unimaginative, barely satisfying sex. I’d felt like Vere was my last chance, and I screwed it up.”</p><p>“You didn’t screw anything up, Pony.” Ann shifted, rolling onto her belly to look up at Anne. “Sounds like she was never very serious about you.”</p><p>“No, I don’t think she was,” Anne said thoughtfully, rubbing her wife’s back. “I didn’t - well, I thought I’d really blown it then. Nothing much to look forward to in my personal life. Father and Marian were making me nuts at Shibden anyway - part of the reason I’d run off to Hastings. I did the autumn term, and then I took that sabbatical. I was writing and going stir crazy, and then - then there you were.”</p><p>“There I was,” Ann grinned, scooting forward to kiss Anne softly. “Right where I’d been for fifteen bloody years, waiting on you.”</p><p>“Well, I didn’t know!” She laughed, squeezing her wife’s hips playfully. “In a way, perhaps I did know.”</p><p>“Go on,” Ann urged.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Finish the story.”</p><p>“You know the rest of the story, Adney, you were there.”</p><p>“I’d like to hear it from you.”</p><p>“Well, I was out for my morning walk. I liked to get up to walk and miss breakfast, then I could plug away on my writing and miss most of the family interaction. I was going stir-crazy before, and then the pandemic and the lockdown - can you imagine? Me and Marian in this house all day? We were about to start killing each other.</p><p>“I figured I could drop in at Crow Nest, that cute little neighbor of mine - again, this invisible string pulled me to you. I didn’t know then just how beautiful you’d gotten as a proper adult. I also didn’t realize how early it was. Looking back, I’m surprised James let me in.”</p><p>“I told him to.”</p><p>“What? How did you know?”</p><p>“I told him, years ago, that if you ever came around, he needed to let you in. No matter what time of day or night.”</p><p>“Adney,” she breathed; the depth and longevity of Ann’s devotion still surprised her. Ann just shrugged with a shy sort of smile. “Well, I’m glad you did, my darling, because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had such a lovely morning. What good luck, then, that Mrs. Barclay should get sick. I don’t suppose you rigged that up, too, did you?’</p><p>“No, Pony,” her wife chuckled. “Perhaps the universe was tired of waiting. You feeling around in the dark, trying to figure out where the heck you were meant to be. God tightened those strings.”</p><p>“I guess He did.” Anne sat up, pulling her wife up with her so that she knelt between Anne’s spread legs. “Every day I thank Him for that.”</p><p>“Me too.” </p><p>Ann kissed her chastely, tender fingers curling in her hair for a moment.</p><p>“And the rest is history,” Anne shrugged.</p><p>“No,” her wife drawled, “tell the rest.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Like! What were you thinking during those first two weeks?”</p><p>“Well, I knew I had to sleep with you that first morning. You were too beautiful and innocent and sweet. That bit with the kitchen island, though - that was insane. I’d never let anyone besides Mariana go down on me, and I’d known you - what - ten seconds?”</p><p>“Fifteen years, Pony.”</p><p>“I will allow eleven years. Any earlier, and you’re a child.”</p><p>“Fair point.”</p><p>“Well, I went with the flow at first. It was such a whirlwind, I didn’t really have time to think about it. Then there was that morning, when you wouldn’t tell me, and I - I thought I’d done it again. That you had a boyfriend or you were already promised to someone else. I didn’t know that -”</p><p>“You couldn’t know,” Ann said softly, with a sad smile.</p><p>“Well, I was still a bit of a prick about it. It didn’t occur to me that - well, I was wrapped up in my own past. The way it seemed to be repeating itself. Hardly fair to you. </p><p>“Underneath it all, I knew that I was already serious about you. Really, really serious. I - I still can’t explain it. I was heartbroken that morning, and I was angry. So, so fucking angry with myself for losing control so quickly. I’d decided, after Vere, that I’d guard my heart a little better, and then you - you and those blue eyes. I thought we’d gotten it settled, but I was worried when Harriet was so - um, opinionated that other day, but -”</p><p>“She sucks. I was - I was all caught up and confused, and - that was dumb.”</p><p>“Not dumb,” Anne said thoughtfully. “That sort of thing happens. It’s amazing we’ve gotten off so easily.”</p><p>“You called Eliza that day in the hut, do you remember?”</p><p>“I do,” she smiled at the memory. “She owed me a favor.”</p><p>“And that was it?” Ann asked. “After a few days you were just in love with me? Going to marry me right away?”</p><p>“Basically,” she chuckled. “I still had my hang-ups, as you know. The bit with the clothes. Being naked. You never pushed me about it, which was very kind. Another way that I knew you were the one for me. Tib was always trying to get my clothes off, and I was always refusing.  I got the ring on Thursday, and then a week later - there we were.”</p><p>“Here we are.”</p><p>Ann smiled, tilting her chin, and Anne kissed her fiercely, a moan bubbling in her throat. She kneaded Ann’s thighs, their chests rolling together; Anne was just about to drag her wife upstairs, when a thought occurred to her.</p><p>“What were you thinking?” She husked against her lips.</p><p>“What?” Ann ran her hand down the front of Anne’s shirt, clearly having the same thought Anne had just had. </p><p>“Those first two weeks. What were you thinking?”</p><p>“Oh, I was just, like, freaking out inside the whole time. I was just like ‘holy shit it’s Anne Lister! Holy shit, Anne Lister is kissing me! Holy shit, Anne Lister is in my bed! Holy shit!’”</p><p>Anne laughed and kissed her soundly. She stood, tipping Ann out of her lap.</p><p>“Holy shit,” she growled, before chasing her giggling wife up the stairs to the bedroom that, inexplicably, they shared. </p><p>It was unbelievable that Ann Walker loved her. Totally unreasonable. Anne’s life used to be so complicated, and she’d grown accustomed to it. Then, one day, all the pieces just fell into place as easily as Ann fell into her arms.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!!</p><p>I switched this one up a little, mostly because I had <i>just</i> written a chapter in that flashback style that I’d already done with Ann’s. I thought it could be cool to have Anne tell the story instead, with interjections from Ann. It’s a bit different. What do you think?</p><p>Timeline mostly lines up to Anne’s real life - had to fudge a few things, particularly Anne taking all of her trips over the summer since she’s a teacher. Not sure exactly where “Fred” came from originally - does anyone know? The Three Steps were originally the three steps of the carriage, so I brought that one forward. Otherwise, I’ve tried to stay as close to my understanding of the diary as possible. I did look for the Actual Hymen Entry, but I couldn’t find it. Damn. I don’t think I made that up? It felt like a moment for growth with the Mariana’s Anne vs. Ann’s Anne. </p><p>This chapter fueled by Taylor Swift’s new album. If you see a chapter pop up from Tib’s perspective based on “The 1” - mind ya business. I’m in my Tib feels. </p><p>Thank you!Q</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Research</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Adney!”’She called from the bedroom. “Can I use your laptop? Just for a second?” </p><p>“Of course,” Ann answered, toweling her hair as she emerged from the bathroom. They’d had a lovely Saturday together, then tomorrow everyone would start arriving, Monday would be the rehearsal dinner, then the wedding on Tuesday. Ann couldn’t believe how soon it was. She couldn’t wait to be Anne Lister’s bride, and - “wait, Pony, no!”</p><p>“Adney,” her wife drawled, “what is this?”</p><p>“It’s nothing!” </p><p>Ann rushed into the room, dropping her towel and attempting to tackle Anne, who was grinning in wide-eyed astonishment at the laptop. Anne held the computer above her head, laughing and shaking her head. Groaning, Ann flopped onto the bed; she hadn’t even had a chance to get dressed, and her nakedness only made her feel more foolish.</p><p>“Now, Miss Walker, I have a few questions.”</p><p>“What?” She covered her burning face in her hands.</p><p>Anne read from the screen:</p><p>“‘Riding your man is fun at first, then your legs cramp.’”</p><p>“Anne!”</p><p>“There’s more,” Anne barely suppressed her laughter. “‘We’ve got what you need to know about how to ride a man without getting tired! Wow him!’” </p><p>“Anne,” she started to laugh, “stop!”</p><p>“‘Number 1, focus on pleasuring yourself first’ - sure, I won’t argue with that.”</p><p>“Pony!” She giggled, burying her face in the sheets.</p><p>“‘Number 10: eat right! If you eat fast food, then you won’t have the proper nutrition to sustain yourself while having sex’ - whoever wrote this is a genius.”</p><p>“Cut it out!” Ann laughed, shaking her head and going back into their closet. She pulled one of Anne’s button-down shirts over her shoulders. “Is this the most embarrassing moment of my life?”</p><p>“Wait until the wedding, baby,” Anne winked, before returning to the screen. “‘Learn the motion of the ocean’ - Adney, come on.” Ann shrugged helplessly, torn between enjoying this playful side of her wife and dying of mortification. “‘Make an in and out motion.’ Truly, this is Pulitzer-worthy. ‘Know how to control his dick.’ God, I hate that word, don’t you? Dick,” Anne spat, then shuddered. “Good heavens.”</p><p>“Pony, leave it. It was stupid, just forget it.”</p><p>“‘Juice your guy. A woman should know how to drive a guy crazy by grinding on him. Grinding is a process in which two surfaces rub to cause friction.’ Honestly, Adney, if you try to juice me, I swear -”</p><p>“Stop!” Ann snatched the computer and set it on her nightstand. “Seriously, Anne, give it a rest.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, baby.” Anne kissed her quickly, hopping off the bed to shed her trousers. “That is probably the best thing I’ve ever read.”</p><p>“You’re an asshole.”</p><p>“I know,” Anne drawled with a broad grin. “Care to tell me why you were looking at that?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Oh, come on,” Anne teased, pulling a worn t-shirt over her head and climbing into bed. “Don’t be like that.”</p><p>“I was just teasing, darling.” </p><p>“I know.”</p><p>Ann wanted to be carefree, to laugh with Anne at that ridiculous so-called article, but she felt foolish again. Childish. She had genuinely appreciated a few of the tips. She just wanted to be sexy and mature for once. </p><p>“Adney, let’s talk about it.”</p><p>Anne pulled her into her arms, letting Ann lean against her broad chest. Ann stared at their legs, Anne’s long, muscular ones bracketing her short, creamy ones. She sighed. </p><p>“I wanted to surprise you.”</p><p>“Mission accomplished,” Anne purred.</p><p>“No!” Ann squeezed her wife’s knees, running her hands absentmindedly along the thighs around her hips. “No, I - on Tuesday. I was going to - oh, don’t make me say it, Pony.”</p><p>“We should talk about it,” Anne said gently. “That article is ridiculous.”</p><p>“No, it’s not! I was - I was looking for some guidance.”</p><p>“Are you planning to ride a man sometime soon, my love?”</p><p>“Of course not, but I - I can’t seem to do it anymore.”</p><p>“Do what?”</p><p>“Ride you.”</p><p>“You do just fine, darling. No complaints from me.”</p><p>“But I have complaints! I - I’m too weak. We almost always have to flip over, and I -” Ann buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know.”</p><p>“Hey, Adney, hold on.” Anne kissed the side of her neck softly, her hands running reassuringly along her arms, though she didn’t try to move Ann’s hands from her face. “You know I don’t care, don’t you? That doesn’t matter to me. We can do anything you want however you want to.”</p><p>“That’s the problem, Pony! I want to - to do it like that, and I - it’s like every time I’m - I’m on top, my legs are - I just can’t finish.”</p><p>“You don’t have to, darling. It’s not a requirement.”</p><p>“But I <i>want</i> to. I want to do that for you and for me, and - it’d be pretty hot, don’t you think?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Anne said thoughtfully. “Turn around.” Ann didn’t move. “Adney. Turn around and face me.”</p><p>Ann exhaled deeply and turned around, sitting on her heels between her wife’s legs. Anne was smiling softly; she shifted her so that Ann was straddling her. </p><p>“Okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Ann nodded.</p><p>“Okay, so. We have a few options if you really want to make this happen. First, just like this. We’re both sitting up, and you can use your hips and your thighs.” Anne ran her hands over these parts of Ann’s body. “Right?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Okay, or, I could lie down.” Anne shifted until her head was on the pillow. “And you’d be above me. Now, this way, you could put your hands here.” She moved Ann’s hands gently to rest on her flat stomach. “Give you some leverage. Again, though, these same muscles in your hips and thighs.” Anne squeezed her hips lightly. “You could put your feet flat on the bed, but I think,” she seemed to be studying Ann’s legs, “yeah, I think that’d be worse. Now, just like this, you could turn around.” Ann scrambled to comply. “Lean forward a bit, darling. You can put your hands on the bed or on my legs. Right?”</p><p>“Right, but this - this isn’t exactly what I was thinking.”</p><p>“No?”</p><p>Ann turned around, her face flushing with the dirty thing running through her mind. Anne sat up, her hands resting lightly on Ann’s waist, her expression open and kind and patient. This was why she’d gone to the internet first. It was too embarrassing to say this kind of thing out loud.</p><p>“Ann?” </p><p>“I - I want to be able to - to look at you.” She couldn’t bear the sincerity in her wife’s eyes, so she dropped her gaze to the faded spaceship on Anne’s t-shirt. She fiddled with the hem. “I want to have your arms around me and be able to kiss you and see your face and - and - and I can’t fucking do it!”</p><p>“Hey, Adney,” Anne said gently, but Ann was still focused on the shirt. “Hey.” A little more firmly this time; Ann looked up. “Two things. First, I love that. I love that that’s what you want, and I want that too. That makes me so hot, I - fuck, Ann. I don’t even have the right words. Second, you know you can ask me, don’t you? You don’t have to be embarrassed to talk to me about stuff like this. We can work it out together.”</p><p>“Can we?” Ann finally looked up, meeting her wife’s tender gaze and soft smile. </p><p>“Of course. Check this out.” She pulled Ann’s hands gently from her shirt and placed one on her shoulder, the other on the headboard behind her. “Leverage. Right? Press down on me. Press down on the bed. That’ll take some of the strain off your legs, and I’ll be right here.” She bucked her hips up playfully. “Between the two of us,” she winked, “I think we can manage.”</p><p>“Can we?”</p><p>“Of course, darling. What’s made you think about this?”</p><p>“Well, I was just - just thinking about Tuesday night, and I - I don’t want to - you know - I want to face you on our wedding night.” Her face burned and she shook her head. “The other way is very hot, but it’s not what I want for Tuesday.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Is that okay?”</p><p>“Adney!” Anne laughed. “Absolutely. Holy fucking shit yes. Can we - I mean, are we saving that for,” she slipped her thumbs under the hem of the shirt around Ann’s body, gently stroking her warm skin, “for Tuesday? Do you want to practice?”</p><p>“Oh, I think we’d better,” Ann said lowly, rolling her hips against Anne’s. “Just to be sure.”</p><p>“Good idea, Mrs. Lister.”</p><p>Ann caught her lips, sliding her hands up her chest and curling them around her neck. One strong hand trailed between her legs, but Ann twisted her hips away. Not yet. Anne jostled her legs, and, giggling, Ann scrambled out of bed. She put a hand firmly on her wife’s thigh as she tried to get up.</p><p>“No, Pony. Let me do this.”</p><p>Inhaling to summon her strength, Ann retrieved the strap-on and harness, setting them carefully on the bed next to her wife’s hip. Anne spread her legs almost imperceptibly - an invitation. Biting her bottom lip, Ann crawled up onto the foot of the bed and tugged her boxer-briefs off. Anne shifted a little lower, and Ann pushed her knees apart. Spread before her, in a faded t-shirt with a cartoon spaceship on it, was Anne Lister. Her breath had already quickened; her eyes had that playful glint. Her strong legs were already tense; her fingers curled gently in the sheets. And this woman was going to be her <i>wife</i>?</p><p>“I can’t believe it,” she whispered as she laid between Anne’s legs, peppering kisses along her belly and hip bones, the tops of her thighs and just above that thatch of dark curls. </p><p>“What?” Anne breathed. </p><p>“I can’t believe that you’re mine.”</p><p>“A few more days to change your mind.”</p><p>“I won’t,” Ann said softly, squeezing her wife’s hips. “It’s too late, Pony. You’re stuck with me.”</p><p>Before Anne could respond, Ann dipped her head to drag her tongue through her arousal. The first taste was the best. And the second. All of it. Any of it. Burying herself between Anne Lister’s powerful thighs was nothing short of incredible. </p><p>“Adney,” she breathed. Ann looked up with a smile; Anne was slack-jawed, a smile playing on her parted her lips, her eyes half-closed, her hands trailing through Ann’s hair and along her back. “Don’t leave me.”</p><p>“I won’t,” Ann promised; “I never would.”</p><p>With that, Ann turned her attention back to her wife’s center. She probed her tongue experimentally between her folds; Anne let her. She’d been getting more and more comfortable with that lately, though Ann had never dared more than the tip of her tongue. She alternated gentle pressure with her tongue and tender slides of her lips and the barest grazes of her teeth. Anne’s thighs tensed around her ears; he fingers tightened in her hair. Ann thrust her tongue a little deeper into her core, and Anne moaned - low and long and incredible. Ann wished she could drown in that sound.</p><p>“Ann,” her wife warned as she took her clit between her teeth. “Ann, I - oh, fuck, that’s - yes, more of - yes, yes, right th- right there, fuck, Ann, Ann, fuck, fuck, oh -”</p><p>Her hips jerked upward, her fingers curled in Ann’s hair, her back arched. Ann continued her gentle ministrations, flicking her tongue carefully as Anne’s body shuddered through her release. Perhaps it was this sound, actually, that she wanted to drown in. The filthy sound of her mouth unraveling Anne Lister stroke by stroke.</p><p>“Oh Lord,” Anne sighed, collapsing back into the sheets. “Oh, good heavens.”</p><p>“Good heavens?” Ann teased, kissing her wife’s belly then sitting back on her heels. “You were all ‘fuck’ this and ‘fuck’ that a moment ago.”</p><p>“Don’t you tease me, Ann Walker.” Anne sprang forward, rising on her knees to catch Ann in a sloppy kiss. “Fucking Ann Walker.”</p><p>“Dirty mouth, Mrs. Walker.”</p><p>That did it. Ann knew it would. Anne was ravenous. Her hands tore open her shirt hanging around Ann’s shoulders; buttons skittered onto the floor. Her hands roamed across Ann’s back, up her chest, cupping her breasts and tweaking her straining nipples. Their lips met hungrily, and Ann slid the ruined shirt from her own shoulders. She slid her hands under Anne’s t-shirt, greedy for the warmth of her skin and the curve of her muscular back. Anne trailed on hand downward, slipping over her hip to squeeze her ass, then tracing between her legs. </p><p>“Pony,” she gasped as Anne’s strong fingers found her center. “Oh, fuck.”</p><p>“Now, you’re the one cursing,” Anne clicked her tongue before nuzzling into Ann’s neck. “Bad girl, Adney.”</p><p>And then she spanked her. Ann gasped again, her hips jerking forward, grinding into Anne’s, then pressing outward again; she needed another. Anne complied. sinking her teeth into the strong tendon along Anne’s neck was the only way to keep from crying out.</p><p>“Dirty girl, Ann Walker,” Anne purred in her ear, fingertips swirling around her entrance. “My dirty, dirty girl.”</p><p>“Yes,” Ann breathed, already needy to feel Anne’s strong fingers inside her. “Please.”</p><p>“Say it again.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Call me that again.”</p><p>“Anne,” she almost laughed at how needy her wife was, how much strong Anne Lister craved commitment and possession. “Really?”</p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>Anne’s voice was small, almost childish, almost ashamed. As if she were embarrassed to be asking for this. Ann stroked the back of her proud head. </p><p>“Mrs. Walker,” she sighed. “Fuck me.”</p><p>“Again.”</p><p>Ann could feel her smile against her skin; she eased the tip of Anne’s finger slip between her folds. </p><p>“Mrs. Walker. I need you. Anne Lister Walker. How does that sound?” </p><p>Anne tugged her head back, forcing Ann to meet her gaze. Her pupils were blown wide, a wide grin on her parted lips. Ann shivered at the depth of desire in her dark eyes. </p><p>“Fucking perfect.”</p><p>Anne crashed their lips together, thrusting inside her with her fingers and her tongue; it was overwhelming - Anne between her lips and between her legs. She was relentless, pulling their bodies together, molding them into one being. Ann gasped away as Anne’s thumb found her clit; she buried her face in the crook of her wife’s neck, surrendering to the sublime rhythm of her hands - one between her legs, the other kneading her ass. </p><p>“Adney,” Anne growled. “I can’t believe how much I want you. How much I need to make you mine. How impatient I am to marry you.”</p><p>“Uh-huh.” Ann nodded frantically, rolling her hips into Anne’s hand, urging her to speed up. “Harder.”</p><p>“Come on,” Anne laughed, pulling her back until they were tumbling into the pillows, Ann on top of her strong wife, who never missed a stroke. “There we are. Better save your strength for the main event.”</p><p>She spanked Ann again, playfully, and sped up, using her hips to bolster the force of her thrusts. Ann felt her climax coil in her gut, that fire burning between her legs as Anne sent her into oblivion. She jerked with the first wave of pleasure rolling into her. Anne bit her neck. </p><p>“There we are, darling. That’s my Adney. Come for me, baby. Fuck, I can’t believe how good you feel. How much I love you.”</p><p>“Anne,” she whined, her body trembling as Anne eased her through. “Oh my God.”</p><p>“Adney,” Anne growled, kissing her cheek. “Oh, darling.”</p><p>“Fucking hell, Pony,” she sighed, her body turning to mush as she relaxed into the last wave of her release. “I had a whole plan. I was doing something.”</p><p>“We can still do that.”</p><p>“No, we can’t, Pony, because I’m dead now. Because you’ve killed me.”</p><p>“Oh, don’t be defeatist, darling. Give it a few minutes.”</p><p>“We can’t get married,” Ann said mournfully; she felt her wife’s body tense below her, “because I can never recover. I’ll never move again.”</p><p>“Don’t even joke about that.”</p><p>“We’ll have to get married right here. Do you think anyone will mind?”</p><p>“I won’t.” Anne traced a hand over her back. “But I think your sister might object to me being inside you right now.”</p><p>“I don’t care.”</p><p>“Aunt Anne might have an objection. Father is supposed to come. I’m not sure he can handle it.”</p><p>“I guess you’re right. I don’t know what Tib would say either.”</p><p>Anne laughed, loud and deep, her body shaking under Ann’s.</p><p>“Tib would adore it. She came in here one time, and I was with this girl.” Ann clicked her tongue, but Anne just laughed, pulling her hand from between her legs to trace both over her slick back. “You were probably thirteen at the time, my love, what did you want me to do?”</p><p>“Fine,” Ann grumbled.</p><p>“Anyway,” Anne drawled, “Tib barged in and just twisted my hand around so I was - you know, where I needed to be, and then left. It was so weird.”</p><p>“I ought to thank her.” </p><p>She smiled as she raised herself up, kneeling and fitting the harness around her wife’s hips. Anne shifted to help her, but she let Ann do the buckles herself. Ann felt a swell in her chest - equal parts pride and arousal. </p><p>“For what?”</p><p>“For getting you - for teaching you. I sure am lucky,” Ann stroked the cock lightly,sending a shiver down her wife’s spine; her Valentine’s gift had been a big hit, “you’re so good at what you do.”</p><p>“Natural talent,” Anne husked as Ann straddled her lap. </p><p>“That’s not what Tib says.”</p><p>“Now, Adney,” Anne clicked her tongue, reaching for their bottle of lubricant, “if you want Tib so badly, just let me know. Only a few days before it gets a lot more complicated to -”</p><p>Ann grabbed her by the front of the shirt, silencing her wavering with a fierce kiss. When they broke apart, they were both breathless. Ann pulled Anne’s shirt over her head and cupped her left breast - a silent possession, a promise, a connection to the racing heart below. </p><p>“Shut your mouth, Pony. I don’t want to hear it again. We’re getting married on Tuesday, and you’re not going to second-guess us again. Or I shall have to shag you into submission.”</p><p>“Now,= that sounds like a good idea, actually.”</p><p>“Pony!” Ann scolded. “Get used to be Mrs. Walker, alright? It’s been decided. The only thing left is the formality and the party.”</p><p>“Alright,” Anne husked, flicking open the bottle. Ann held out her hand, receiving a generous dose of the lubricant; she started to spread it over the pink silicone. “You’ll tell me if you get tired.”</p><p>“Yes, Pony.”</p><p>“You won’t give yourself a cramp out of pride.”</p><p>“No, Pony.”</p><p>“You don’t want to hobble down the aisle on Tuesday.”</p><p>“No, Pony.” She rolled her eyes; Anne spanked her playfully. “Are you ready?”</p><p>Anne grinned, nodding slowly; fire burned in her eyes as her strong hands gently guided Ann upward. She couldn’t deny the shiver of anticipation up her spine or the excited clench of core as she hovered over Anne’s cock. Remembering her wife’s words, she steadied herself with a hand on the headboard near Anne’s ear, the other on her broad shoulder. </p><p>They moaned in unison as Ann sank down; she exhaled as she adjusted to being filled. It was like coming home, being this full, like growing a new limb or breaking in a new set of paints. So many possibilities. So much potential. She had to remind herself not to rush.</p><p>“Slowly,” Anne reminded her, as if reading her thoughts. “Don’t juice me yet.”</p><p>Ann laughed, unable to believe how filthy and hilarious her life had become; Anne was inside of her, filling her with a strap-on, and yet she had time for jokes? Ann only wished she could marry her soon, had married her already, was able to spend a hundred years in her arms. In the meantime, she leaned forward to kiss her ridiculous smirk; Anne wrapped a hand around her hip, the other cupping her cheek. She was infinitely tender; it made Ann’s head spin. Their hips started to roll together.</p><p>“Just like that,” Anne purred, tracing her hand down Ann’s neck, over her clavicle, to her breast. “Oh, darling, you feel so good.”</p><p>Nodding, Ann rolled her hips, rising and falling gently, filling herself over and over. She gripped the headboard, which they’d braced away from the wall a few weeks ago to mask the telltale thump in the night. Anne was right - as she so often and infuriatingly was - pressing down on Anne and the bed really helped. She just had to focus. </p><p>“Pony, you - God, that’s so good.”</p><p>“Yeah?” The muscles in Anne’s arms flexed as she guided Ann’s movements; they sped up. “That’s good?”</p><p>“Yes, Pony,” she whined, adjusting to rise and fall harder; she fancied Anne was lifting her with every stroke, bucking her hips in perfect time. “Yes, Pony, there.”</p><p>“You’re so beautiful,” Anne whispered into her neck, trailing her lips along her shoulders and breasts as Ann continued to grind slowly in her lap. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are, Adney.”</p><p>Ann whimpered, her release coiling tighter; the time for gentle rolls and soft words was ending. She sped up, feeling her core burn with that delicious flame. Anne caught her rhythm, digging her fingers into Ann’s hips and thrusting into her sharply. Ann had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. Then a crisp smack fell across her behind. She slumped forward with a high-pitched gasp.</p><p>“That’s right,” Anne growled, pumped into her harder; from this angle, Ann could appreciate every contour of her breasts and abdominals. “You like that, Miss Walker? Riding my cock?” </p><p>Another smack. Ann keened. </p><p>“Because you’re mine, Ann Walker.”</p><p>Again; Ann’s moan caught in her throat.</p><p>“Ann Lister. D’you like that?” Ann nodded frantically. “Mrs. Lister.”</p><p>Anne spanked her once more, crashing their lips together to swallow Ann’s moan. Gently, she curled her hands around Ann’s shoulders, bucking into Ann harshly. The duality of her touch struck Ann, and she closed her eyes, throwing her head back as she pressed down harshly into her wife’s strong shoulders. She cried out once, but Anne, without breaking her rhythm, clamped a hand over her mouth. </p><p>“Must say quiet, Mrs. Lister.”</p><p>Ann nodded; she was almost there. She snaked a hand down to strum her own clit; the brush of her fingertips against Anne’s wet cock sent a surge of fresh arousal through her. Their heavy breathing filled the room - Ann’s was closer to a series of gasps and whines than breath. The bed squeaked faintly below them, underscoring the slap of their overheated skin.</p><p>“You know,” Anne panted in her ear, “I can tell you one thing. About Tuesday. About what I’m wearing.” They’d been so secretive until now; Ann could barely focus on the details she’d been so eager for in the past - how could she, with Anne’s cock splitting her in such delicious strokes? “My suit.” She accented her words with harsh, desperate thrusts, meeting Ann’s urgent bounces. “Is high enough. That if you bite down. On my neck. No one. Will even. Know.”</p><p>That was it. Ann fell forward, sinking her teeth into the sweet juncture of her wife’s neck, relishing the salty press of her skin between her lips. She bucked her hips and flicked her clit just a few times more, and her core exploded. Anne continued to pump into her, scooting her shaking hand away and circling her clit as she eased wave after incredible wave from her. Faintly, Ann was aware of her wife’s movements growing jerky and rough; she bore down, grinding her hips. She was rewarded by a choked moan and a shudder.</p><p>“Ann, I - fuck!” </p><p>A few more urgent, desperate strokes. </p><p>“There, just - yes, Adney.”</p><p>With a last, silent cry, they fell together, their hips juddering and their bodies shaking. After an eternity, Ann unclenched her jaw, peppering the red area with kisses and soft strokes of her tongue. Poor Anne would almost certainly bear her teeth marks for a few days.</p><p>“Oh, Ann,” came the low groan, “Good Lord.”</p><p>“No, I <i>know</i>.”</p><p>“You’re like -”</p><p>“No, you were -”</p><p>“I can't believe I get to marry you, Ann Walker.”</p><p>“Believe it, darling.” Ann kissed her softly. “Too bloody late now.”</p><p>“Is it?” </p><p>Anne’s dark eyes betrayed her insecurity; it broke Ann’s heart. She caressed the side of her handsome face with one hand, the other tracing over the lasting impression she’d left on Anne’s skin.</p><p>“Absolutely,” Ann said firmly. “You don’t have a choice, Mrs. Walker.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!!</p><p>Bit of a busy day today - had to plant some shrubs for my mom [insert bush/hole/uphill gardening joke here]. Had to write this one in snatches, but I wanted to get it out there. A few of y’all had requested Ann do some sexy research on her own, and I thought this was a fun way to explore that. I actually did Google some, like, “riding tips” articles, and gosh straight sex sounds bleak. It’s always like “remember foreplay!” and “don’t forget to get yourself off too!” and “men like this and men like that.” The article excerpts Anne reads are from the most egregious example I could find.<br/>“I‘m almost crying for heterosexuality” - Adele Haenel</p><p>Alright, welp, wedding stuff incoming. I know getting married on a Tuesday is weird, but March 30th (the day they took the sacrament IRL) is a Tuesday in 2021. I’m thinking this is their Spring Break, and they’re hoping everyone travels over the weekend and that’s why they picked a Tuesday... I don’t know... whatever...</p><p>Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. The 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>YES I’m listening to <i>folklore</i> on repeat. So sue me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“No, Pony,” Ann laughed as she twisted out of Anne’s arms. “We don’t have time.”</p><p>“Adney,” she whined, slumping against the cabinet in the closet. “Come <i>on</i>.”</p><p>“Elizabeth is going to be at Crow Nest in, like, five minutes!”</p><p>“She can wait,” Anne purred, sidling up behind her wife as she buttoned her jeans; she wrapped her arms around Ann’s waist, breathing deeply to fill her lungs with the scent of her shampoo. “Just quickly.”</p><p>“Now, Anne,” she warned, turning in Anne’s arms and straightening her collar, “you know perfectly well that we have to be at Crow Nest when Liz gets there. We’re already late.”</p><p>Anne grumbled, squeezing Ann’s hips lightly. She knew Ann was right, but that didn't stop the surge of desire at the sight of Ann in her tight little jeans. Her slouchy little sweatshirt. The way she’d run her fingers over the mark on Anne’s neck and wordlessly offered her a collared shirt. The impression of Ann’s teeth seemed to burn on her skin, and that only made Anne want her more. To make matters worse, they’d agreed to spend tonight and Monday night apart. Anne was growing seriously concerned that they wouldn’t have sex until Tuesday night. </p><p>“Come back here tonight,” she said softly; “don’t stay at Crown Nest.”</p><p>Ann seemed to consider, and Anne started to grin. Then Ann shook her head.</p><p>“No, Pony. No. I’m going out with Catherine and Liz, and then we’re going to stay at Crow Nest all together. We’re having a slumber party. And you’re going to - do whatever you and Tib are going to do.”</p><p>“She’s bringing non-alcoholic whisky,” Anne grimaced. </p><p>“That’ll be fun.” Ann kissed her quickly. “Two nights apart, darling, then the rest of our lives.”</p><p>Anne narrowed her eyes, then sighed and relented. </p><p>“Fine. Just know that I’m missing you every moment.”</p><p>“I would say I’m going to miss you, Pony, but,” Ann clicked her tongue, “I think I’m going to have a lot of fun tonight.”</p><p>Anne scoffed and kissed her again. They parted and trotted downstairs to make the short drive to Crow Nest. They managed to pull into the drive just after the Sutherlands. Ann scampered out to greet Elizabeth and the children, while Anne dutifully helped Captain Sutherland with the bags. </p><p>“We’re so pleased to have you,” she told him as they huffed and puffed up the stairs. “How was the drive?”</p><p>“Unending,” Sutherland joked. “We left on Friday and stopped along the way to break it up and visit a few relatives and friends. I feel like I’ve been in the car for years.”</p><p>“Well, we appreciate it,” Anne set down her load of bags and extended her hand. They shook. “Glad to have you here.”</p><p>They parted, and Anne trotted downstairs to find her favorite nephew. Sackville was being overly loud as usual, running around the kitchen and onto the back deck. Luckily, it was warming up outside, now that it was nearly April, and Sackville raced around in circles, as if making up for all the time he had been still in the car. </p><p>“Sackville!” She cried, stretching her arms wide; the boy ran to her. “How are you, sir?”</p><p>Sackville started chattering excitedly, and Anne followed him into the garden. They walked in the crunchy grass, with Anne pointing out various plants and structures. Her chest swelled as Sackville took her hand on their way back to the house. She had forgotten how much she’d enjoyed spending time with this little guy. </p><p>“There they are,” Elizabeth smiled as they returned. “Good to see you, Lister.”</p><p>Anne accepted her tight hug, and they hovered in the kitchen Anne knew so well. She tried not to laugh when Elizabeth set her youngest daughter - who’d grown substantially since Anne had seen her last - on the island where Ann had gone down on her for the first time. </p><p>“I’ve brought my dress, but I’m afraid it’s a bit tight.”</p><p>“I’m sure you’ll look great,” Ann answered, wrapping her arm around Anne’s waist. </p><p>“Well, it’s more than that.” Elizabeth smoothed a hand down her belly, and Anne furrowed her brow. “I’m pregnant.”</p><p>“Liz!” Ann cried, immediately rushing to her sister and hugging her tightly. “Congratulations!”</p><p>“Congratulations,” Anne offered. “That’s very exciting.”</p><p>“It’s alright,” Elizabeth shrugged. “Here’s hoping for another girl.”</p><p>“You don’t seem excited,” Ann scolded. “This is amazing!”</p><p>“I’m excited,” Elizabeth finally smiled. “I’m very excited. We want at least one or two more.”</p><p>“Do you really?” Anne asked, astonished. </p><p>“Three or four,” Sutherland called, coming into the room with Mary in tow. “Let’s have eight.”</p><p>“You know what, darling, if you want to carry the next three or four,” Elizabeth teased, “I will support you every step.”</p><p>Sutherland scoffed, and the two couples laughed politely. Anne’s phone buzzed. </p><p>“Tib’s at the house. I guess, I’ll - uh, I’ll go on then.”</p><p>“We’ll take good care of her, Lister,” Elizabeth said. “See you tomorrow at the church.”</p><p>Ann took her hand, and they walked to the front of the house together. Anne felt a strange sense of loss as Ann’s hand curled around her own. They paused at the front door. Anne felt a bit like a teenager on a first date, though she’d never really had that experience. Her wife sank her hands into the back pockets of Anne’s jeans. </p><p>“Have a good time tonight, Pony.”</p><p>“Come home tonight,” Anne whispered. “Come see me.”</p><p>“I’ll be drunk,” Ann grinned, pulling her closer. “I’m going to pass out on the couch and drool all over Catherine.”</p><p>“Drool all over me.”</p><p>“It’s one night. I’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner.”</p><p>“You’re right,” Anne relented. “Sorry. Have a good time.”</p><p>Ann stretched upward, catching her lips in a soft kiss. Anne brought her hands up to cradle her face, turning her wife and backing her slowly into the front door. Their hips rolled together; Anne wondered if they could sneak out to the car. Just for a second. She’d just slipped her tongue past her wife’s lips when a sharp voice called out behind them.</p><p>“Get out of here, Lister!”</p><p>They shot apart, spinning around to find Elizabeth with her hands on her hips. Anne ran her hand through her hair, blushing, while her wife panted lightly against the door. </p><p>“Go on,” Elizabeth ordered. “We will see you tomorrow at the church. Good Lord. You two, are -” she chuckled, “absolutely shameless.”</p><p>Ann squeezed her hand as Anne eased out the door. How did Elizabeth manage to make her feel like a horny kid? She climbed back into the Range Rover, shaking her head. Best not to mention this to Tib. The ribbing alone would be torturous. By the time she arrived back at Shibden, Tib’s SUV was empty. Anne trotted inside, already dreading whatever hell Tib would be raining down her. Before she could find her oldest friend, she ran into a familiar redhead. </p><p>“Pic?”</p><p>“Hi, Anne.” The young woman turned around with a smile. “How are you?”</p><p>“I - uh, I’m fine. How are - why - what are you - doing? Here?”</p><p>“Oh, I, uh,” Pic looked confused, turning to Tib who appeared suddenly, “are we - are we early?”</p><p>“Good to see you, Lister.” Tib clapped her on the shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind me bringing Frankie along. Figured we could have a nice stag night.”</p><p>“I guess,” Anne said warily. The few times she’d seen Pic since graduation, she had enjoyed her company, but it was not exactly what she’d had in mind. “What - uh - what are we doing tonight?”</p><p>“Getting drunk!” Tib hollered. Pic smacked her on the stomach. “Well, you two can. Frankie offered to cook, and I’ve brought some bottles. Will the family mind?”</p><p>“No,” Anne sighed, walking past the couple to the living room. “I’m sure they’ll love it.”</p><p>“Is that Tib?” Marian called, her feet clattering on the stairs. “Tib! Tib! Tib!”</p><p>“Marian,” Tib bellowed as the younger woman crashed into her. “How the hell are you?”</p><p>Anne scoffed, rolling her eyes to Pic and pushing past the embracing duo. Marian and Tib’s friendship always rankled her. It wasn’t jealousy. Obviously. They were just obnoxious. Aunt Anne was giggling in her chair, clearly already a victim to Tib’s dubious charms. Captain Lister rose to shake Pic’s hand.</p><p>“Lovely to meet you, Captain Lister.”</p><p>“Good to have you, Miss Pickford.”</p><p>“Anne why don’t you have friends over more often?” Aunt Anne asked. “This girl seems lovely. We hardly ever see Tib anymore.”</p><p>“Perhaps I’ll go back to Crow Nest with the Sutherlands,” Anne grumbled, plopping down onto her chair, which seemed impossibly large without Ann to help her fill it. </p><p>“Perhaps you should,” Tib sneered, sweeping back into the room. “Let us have a little fun.”</p><p>“Chin up, Anne,” Marian teased, perching on the arm of the chair next to her. “Little Ann will be back before you know it.”</p><p>“Miss her already?” Aunt Anne asked sympathetically. </p><p>“Miss being alone, honestly,” Anne grumbled.</p><p>The afternoon passed much the same way. Anne grew increasingly annoyed with her vulgar family and friends. She’d begged Tib for a quiet night in, but now she longed for the distraction of a restaurant or a pub. The decorum it would force on Tib’s boisterous ways, the innate distance from her family, the blissful presence of even one sane person besides herself. </p><p>Around five, Pic announced she was moving to the kitchen, and Anne followed her. Cordingley and Hemingway had been relieved for the wedding festivities, taking a much-deserved week-long holiday. Anne could hear Tib regaling the family; she’d forgotten how much they liked her when she was sober. It had been so long since Tib had been sober at Shibden; a grave miscalculation, Anne thought. Yet another person to get along with her family better than she did. </p><p>“How are you, Pic? Post-graduation?”</p><p>“Great!” Pic grinned, pulling out ingredients. “I really can’t thank you enough for introducing me to Tib. She’s changed my entire life.”</p><p>“But are you happy with her?” Anne reached for the carrots Pic had just washed. “Can I help?”</p><p>“Sure! Small pieces, eh? I’m going to roast them. Thank you.” Anne fancied a slight blush peeked from under Pic’s collar; it must be strange, she figured, for Pic to be here, at Shibden, cooking a meal for her former professor. “I am happy with her. Really, kind of incredibly happy.”</p><p>“How’s her drinking?” Anne started peeling.</p><p>“Good. It’s not - it’s hard sometimes. You know, she gets grouchy, and I’m trying to - you know, to make sure she’s not finding a new addiction. Exercise has been the newest thing, but then she strained something in her back. I wish she’d quit smoking, but - I mean, I don’t want to tell her what to do.”</p><p>“You’re her partner,” Anne said gently, carefully. “You can tell her these things.”</p><p>“It’s a bit complicated. I don’t know. We’re working it out.”</p><p>“But are you happy, Frances?”</p><p>“I am,” she answered thoughtfully. “It’s kind of weird, you know, us being so far apart in age, and everything, but - actually, we have a ton in common. We like the same books and movies and food. Tib is actually really thoughtful, underneath all the bluster.” Anne grunted. “She actually is, Dr. Lister. If you give her a chance.”</p><p>“I know what you mean,” Anne admitted, thinking back to a few times in her past when Tib had been the one to comfort her when Mariana struck her down. “Do you feel it’s moving too fast?”</p><p>“Well, we’re lesbians,” Pic laughed. “I always move pretty quickly in relationships, and Tib - Tib is really like an old Tomcat underneath. She’s got some scars and sharp claws, but she really just wants somebody to curl up with in the sun.”</p><p>Anne was struck by the eloquence of her former student, the confidence she possessed, the ability she had to see the best in Tib. There was a soft side to Tib, Anne knew, even if it was buried under an incredibly annoying shell. </p><p>“Here I am,” Tib announced, sweeping into the room. “Did you miss me?”</p><p>She planted a firm kiss on Pic’s cheek and smacked her ass. Anne grumbled to herself; she should be with <i>her</i> girl, kissing <i>her</i> cheek, spanking <i>her</i> cute little behind. Tib laughed, leaning against the wall. </p><p>“Jealous, are you, Lister? How’s the little woman?”</p><p>“I’m sure she’s better than I am. She doesn’t have to deal with you.”</p><p>“You know, one day I’m going to take you up on all this abuse, Lister. Knock you flat.”</p><p>“Izzy,” Pic hissed, instantly silencing her brash girlfriend.</p><p>Anne wondered for a moment if she had gone insane. The nerves from the wedding, perhaps, had driven her to madness. There was no way Isabella Norcliffe was cowed by a twenty-three year old in Doc Martens; it was impossible that she was called “Izzy.” Anne presented her cut carrots to this magician.</p><p>“Thanks,” Pic smiled, apparently unaware of the feat she’d pulled off. </p><p>“I’m dying for a smoke,” Tib pronounced. “Can you spare your sous chef, babe?” Pic nodded. “Take a walk with me, Lister.”</p><p>The sun was setting, and it was getting cool. Anne shook her head at Tib’s proffered cigarette; smoking lost part of its fun without Ann there to taste the lingering smoke on her lips. They strolled out toward the greenhouse, Anne’s contemplative mood hanging heavily between them. </p><p>“Are you happy?” She asked suddenly.</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“Are you happy? With Pic? With your life?”</p><p>“God, Lister, keep it heavy, why don’t you?”</p><p>“Never mind, we can talk about something else.”</p><p>“I am,” Tib said sincerely. “I am very happy. In general, and with Frankie. We get along, and I’m actually - I’m awake for my own life. You know? I’m present for the first time in a long time.”</p><p>“Yeah.” </p><p>Strangely, Anne felt the same way, though she hadn’t kicked an addiction like Tib had. Well, she thought, perhaps she had. </p><p>“It would’ve been fun, wouldn’t it?” Tib asked. “If we got together.”</p><p>“What?” Anne turned to her sharply.</p><p>“Not now, you nutcase. No, I mean, back then. It would’ve been cool. If we’d made it work. I think we’d’ve have fun together.”</p><p>“I’m not sure that I understand you,” she said stiffly.</p><p>“I’m on this new shit, this sober Tib, and I - I mean, you never know. I could wreck it all tomorrow, or Frankie could leave me, or anything, but - we were something weren’t we? When we crashed into each other every now and then? Rough and a little dangerous. Angry.”</p><p>“We were,” Anne admitted with a chuckle. “We were definitely wild.”</p><p>“If one thing had been different, I just - I wonder, you know?” Tib blew a perfect ring of smoke into the twilight sky. “If I’d been sober. If Mariana had fucked off. If we’d lived nearer. If the timing was different. Would everything have been different?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Anne said honestly, as Tib lit another cigarette; she pointed, and Tib handed her one as well. For a moment, neither of them spoke, both seemingly lost in their thoughts. “We’re not that compatible, Tib. I don’t think we would’ve gotten along, even if those things had been different. Even if timing had been better.”</p><p>“I used to wish for it all the time,” Tib said to the ground. “If my wishes came true, it wouldn’t be Frankie in that kitchen. It would’ve been you and me. We’d be together right now.”</p><p>“Tib,” Anne exhaled, unsure what to do with the pity and regret in her chest; she could’ve saved her friend years of heartache if she’d been a little more honest, a little more forthcoming, a little more courageous.</p><p>“I don’t have any defense,” Tib shrugged. “I never could just leave well enough alone. I knew you were more committed to Mariana. That you loved her more, and it would take someone very special to break that spell. I’m glad it was Ann Walker. She’s a special person, and I think - I’m happy for you. That it was her that came through for you. But it would’ve been sweet, if it would’ve been me.”</p><p>“Tib,” she said again, recognizing her opportunity to make right even a small portion of the myriad wrongs she’d done in her life. “I - I want to apologize.”</p><p>“Lister.”</p><p>“No, stop. Listen. I’m sorry for how I treated you. I should’ve- God, I should’ve done so many things better. I did to you exactly what Mary did to me, and I didnt’ even realize it. I should’ve - I should’ve gotten you help, and I should’ve broken it off once I got serious with Mary, and I - I should’ve done a lot of things differently. I hate that I hurt you. The way I behaved was not acceptable. I can’t believe how long it took me to realize that, but I - I see it now. I’m sorry, my friend.”</p><p>“Lister.” </p><p>Tib sucked hard on her cigarette, the tip glowing in the waning light. She paused for a moment, then exhaled through her nose and started to walk back toward the house. Anne followed her, feeling more than a bit sheepish. </p><p>“I appreciate it, Lister,” she said gruffly. “I don’t - I don’t want it, though, your apologies and your pity.”</p><p>“Tib -”</p><p>“Shut <i>up</i>, Anne. Jesus. I appreciate what you’re saying. I was there too, as you may recall. I’m a drunk, but I was present for those years. You didn’t take advantage of me, alright? I’m working on not regretting my past.” Tib said these words as if she’d been practicing, as if she’d heard them somewhere and was still getting used to the feel of them in her mouth. “You do the same, eh? It would’ve been cool, if we’d gotten together, but we didn’t. That’s the whole point. It would’ve been nice, but we both found somebody who’s better for us. Right?”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“Right, so thank you. And be quiet. Don’t do that again - make me feel emotions. You know I hate that.” Anne chuckled, and Tib seemed to lighten. They were drawing closer to the house, and Tib draped a thick arm around her shoulders. “Besides, Frankie can do this thing with her tongue -”</p><p>“Tib!” Anne cried. </p><p>They were still laughing when they reentered the kitchen, which now smelled heavenly. Marian and Pic were bustling around, tending pots and skillets. Tib spun Pic around and planted a kiss on her lips. </p><p>“I love you, babe.”</p><p>“Be quiet,” Pic giggled, twisting away with a blush.</p><p>Anne’s heart ached for Ann and her soft giggle and telltale blush. She wondered what was going on at Crow Nest right now. She resolved not to text. She didn’t want to be clingy. Ann got two nights away, and Anne could respect that. She could be patient.</p><p>“You’ve got shit manners,” Marian said flatly, rousing Anne from her reverie. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Leaving this poor girl in here, alone, to cook our dinner? Why aren’t you all going out to a restaurant like normal people?”</p><p>“Well, I just wanted a quiet night, you know?”</p><p>“So you can brood about Little Ann and make all of us miserable.”</p><p>“No!”</p><p>“Surely you’ve been apart before,” Tib piped in.</p><p>“Actually, no,” Anne admitted. “Not for this long.”</p><p>“Really?” Pic said over her shoulder, more than a little surprise coloring her voice. </p><p>“Yeah,” Anne shrugged. “I mean, we just - we like being together.”</p><p>“They’re codependent,” Marian said to the visitors.</p><p>“Ann’s therapist says we’re interdependent,” Anne corrected her. “We need each other, but we’re also separate individuals.”</p><p>“Bit touchy, isn’t she?” Marian said sardonically.</p><p>Anne groaned, surrendering as the night careened wildly out of her control. No wonder she’d been so miserable before Ann - everyone in her life was vulgar and ridiculous. Dinner was somehow worse, with attacks on all sides. </p><p>Marian, almost as soon as they congregated at the table: “it’s a wonder Big Anne can even sit still without Little Ann here to hold her down.”</p><p>Then, later, Father: “I can’t figure it out, Miss Pickford. I have a lot of respect for Miss Walker, but she’s marrying that bonehead? I just don’t see it.”</p><p>A one-two punch from Tib: “No, Mother heard from the Lawtons last week; she’s absolutely coming. By the way, Mother heard you’d been passed over for Department Head? Again?” </p><p>Followed swiftly by Pic: “everybody hates him, Dr. Lister, don’t feel bad. I’m sure it’s something to do with class load. Naturally, they’d want you to teach more, wouldn’t they? And then he can do all the Department Head stuff.”</p><p>Even, traitorously, Aunt Anne: “D’you think you’ll cry, Antsy? You’d better start preparing for that. I’ve seen Little Ann’s dress, and it’s quite stunning. Might want to pack a handkerchief in your pocket.”</p><p>By the time they finished, Anne felt thoroughly bruised. Marian cleared the table, and Tib clapped Anne heavily on the shoulder. </p><p>“You look like shit.”</p><p>“Must you kick me when I’m down? Can I have one moment to recover?”</p><p>“We should go out,” Pic said suddenly.</p><p>“No, I -”</p><p>“Excellent idea!” Tib interrupted. “Let’s do it!”</p><p>Suddenly, Anne found herself being shuttled into Tib’s SUV and led into a pub. Pic shoved two shots in her hands immediately; they burned down Anne’s throat before she could think twice. Tib pulled them back to the patio.</p><p>“There’s karaoke,” Pic offered when they got outside.</p><p>“No,” Anne groaned. “I’m out, can that be enough? I actually just wanted to sit on the couch tonight.”</p><p>“Too bad!” Tib crowed as Pic disappeared back into the bar. “We’re celebrating. You’ve found the love of your bloody life! And she’s going to marry you? That’s fucking insane, Lister! You’re lucky! Enjoy it, dumbass!”</p><p>“Alright, stop shouting.”</p><p>Pic returned with two beers and a water; they sat on the mostly empty patio with Tib’s smoke swirling around them. It was a pleasant night, and the liquor warmed Anne’s belly and her mood. She sighed, relaxing in the company of the two people who were, perhaps, her closest friends. </p><p>“Are you excited?” Pic asked.</p><p>“I am,” Anne said thoughtfully. “I want to see Ann’s dress. I want to do the rings. The rest of it - I don’t really care.”</p><p>“You want to show off,” Tib said.</p><p>“Well, I guess I do,” Anne chuckled. “I’m a bit happier to hear Mary is coming than I thought I might be.”</p><p>“Really?” Tib sounded surprised.</p><p>“Yeah, I - I want her to see how happy I am. Is that cruel? I want to rub her face in it a little bit.”</p><p>“That’s understandable,” Pic said.</p><p>“Mostly, I’m ready to be done with it. You know? All the nerves and everything else.”</p><p>“Is she the one?” Pic asked, sounding like a teenage girl at a slumber party.</p><p>“You know,” Anne couldn’t help smiling, “I think she is.” She shook her head “I know she is. Isn’t that strange? I absolutely know she is. God, I wish she were here right now.”</p><p>“You got it bad,” Pic laughed. </p><p>Tib had been standing over them, smoking and surveying the inside of the bar; she suddenly broke into a wide grin. </p><p>“Looks like you got your wish.”</p><p>Anne turned around sharply; through the foggy window, she could make out a trio of women weaving their way toward the back of the bar. She shot to her feet, drawing laughter from Tib and Pic. </p><p>“I guess we’re going inside,” Tib said to her girlfriend as Anne flung the door open.</p><p>Ann was somehow more beautiful than this morning. Her hair fell in gentle waves, her face flushed - they must’ve started drinking before they came. Elizabeth had an arm around her waist; Ann had changed into a short blue dress, and her legs were bare. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, the surprise of seeing her, the hours of separation, the liquor and the music and the length of that skirt.</p><p>Desire coursed through her veins, augmented by the bright smile lighting up Ann’s face as she recognized her.</p><p>“Anne!” She cried, toddling over to her. “What are you - I thought you were staying home?”</p><p>“They made me come out,” Anne nodded her head to Tib and Pic, who had intercepted Elizabeth and Catherine at the bar. “I didn’t know you were coming here.”</p><p>“They have karaoke,” Ann shrugged. </p><p>“God, I’ve missed you.”</p><p>“Have you?”</p><p>“You wouldn’t believe how much.”</p><p>“Come here.”</p><p>Ann pulled her toward the bathroom - a too-large, unisex situation with a flickering fluorescent lights. Their lips crashed together before Anne could even lock the door. </p><p>“Oh, fuck,” she groaned, finally twisting the lock in the door handle. </p><p>Ann’s hands were everywhere, running over her back and dipping into her trousers; Anne trailed kisses along her neck, sliding her hands down up Ann’s thighs and under the skirt of her dress. </p><p>“Pony, when did you - you look so fucking good.”</p><p>“What? No, you - with this dress.”</p><p>“Did you smoke?” Ann breathed, her body already arching into Anne’s, her shoulders pressed into the grimy wall.</p><p>“Yeah.” Anne found the lace covering the side of Ann’s hip. “Do you mind?”</p><p>“Just wish I’d been there.”</p><p>“Me too,” Anne husked.</p><p>She brought their lips together soundly.  Ann’s hands tugged at her shoulders and at her hair. Anne bit her bottom lip before pulling away. She dropped to her knees, worshipful in her position, her roaming hands, her expression. Pic’s words echoed in her head - of course, Ann was the one. There could never be anyone else.</p><p>“Adney,” she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with her wife’s potent arousal, “fuck, I love you.”</p><p>“Pony,” came the soft whine as Anne flipped her skirt up, revealing her white lace panties. “Pony.”</p><p>“I know.” Anne kissed her belly softly. “I know.”</p><p>She’d better make it quick, she thought, tugging Ann’s underwear down to her ankles. She stashed the ruined white lace in her pocket before burying her face between her wife’s creamy thighs. Ann was already so wet, her fingers curling in Anne’s hair. Anne lifted one knee over her shoulder, dragging her tongue through Ann’s folds, working her mercilessly and holding her hips steady. </p><p>“Pony,” Ann panted, “fuck, right there. Seriously, fuck, I - fuck.”</p><p>“Dirty girl,” Anne teased, nipping the top of Ann’s thigh before diving back to her wet center. </p><p>It took only a few strokes between her folds, a handful of flicks to her clit, and just the right amount of pressure to get Ann to slump forward. Anne lapped between her legs ravenously, as if it were her last chance. She eased Ann through wave after wave of shaking, trembling pleasure, until, finally, Ann pulled her head away.</p><p>“Good Lord, Anne.”</p><p>“I really did miss you, my love,” Anne said, a touch embarrassed of her desperate display. She kissed the top of each thigh before standing. “What good luck to bump into you.”</p><p>“Fate,” Ann breathed, pulling their lips together. She moaned into the kiss, tilting her head to slide her tongue against Anne’s; below, her hands fumbled over Anne’s buckle, wrenched her trousers open, and slid into her boxer-briefs. “We can’t stay apart.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Anne gasped as her wife’s nimble fingers made contact with her clit. “We - fuck, we can’t spend a single day apart.”</p><p>“Why bother?” Ann teased in her ear, daring her tongue out to trace around the shell of it. “It’s so much better when we’re together.”</p><p>“It is,” Anne breathed, rolling her hips into Ann’s touch, bracing herself with her hands on the wall behind her wife. “It’s so much better.”</p><p>Ann’s hands were like fire - burning and sparking and destroying. The small bathroom was suddenly impossibly warm - humid from their heavy breathing and overheated bodies. Tib’s words came back to her - it would’ve been cool, if Tib had been the one. But Ann was the one, and she was blazing hot. Anne admonished herself for such a weak metaphor, but she couldn’t think of a better one. Not with the way Ann’s fingers played over her clit or her lips worshiped her neck. Anne felt her knees go weak as Ann pulled her tie loose and flicked open the top button of her shirt. </p><p>“Adney,” she moaned as Ann dragged her tongue along Anne’s neck, up to her jaw. “Please.”</p><p>Ever merciful, Ann pressed harder, pulled her closer, stoked that flame into an inferno. With a gasp and a shudder, Anne shot into the warm waters of her release. Ann stroked her gently and whispered in her ear.</p><p>“I can’t wait to marry you, Anne Lister.”</p><p>Desperate, afraid she might pass out from the sheer overwhelming perfection of it all, Anne grabbed her wife’s face in her hands, kissing her slowly and deeply. They broke apart after a few moments, giggling like and straightening each other’s clothes. Ann held her hand out, but Anne shook her head and moved to the sink to wash her face. </p><p>“Will I not be getting my pants back, Dr. Lister?”</p><p>“Definitely not.”</p><p>“Anne!” She giggled, washing her hands next to her. “Come on.”</p><p>“Do you know how hot that makes me?” Anne said, drying her hands and leaning against the wall. “Having this little strip of lace in my pocket all night? We might be meeting back up here at the end of the night.”</p><p>“No, Pony,” she drawled. “We’re here to have fun with our friends.”</p><p>“They’re not nearly as fun as you.” Anne wrapped her arms around her narrow waist, but Ann wriggled away. </p><p>“No more! We should save it up. Until Tuesday. Okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” she answered slowly, her hand slipping in her pocket to finger the lace.</p><p>“That means no wanking, Dr. Lister.” </p><p>Ann flung the door open, striding away; Anne followed her like a lost puppy. </p><p>“No wanking at <i>all</i>?” Anne hissed in her ear.</p><p>“None,” Ann answered curly, sauntering to the table with Catherine and Elizabeth. </p><p>Anne clicked her tongue and shuffled to Tib and Pic’s table on the opposite side of the room. A surge of disappointment rose in Anne’s chest - she’d thought at least they would sit together. At least she would get to talk to her wife. Hear her voice. Watch her enjoy herself. </p><p>“Now, see,” Tib complained, “if that had been us, she’d be all mad.”</p><p>“I know,” Pic agreed, “hypocrite.”</p><p>“Let’s go,” Anne grumbled.</p><p>“Next up,” an unknown man announced over the karaoke machine, “the bride-to-be: Ann Walker!”</p><p>Anne froze, her jaw hanging open as Catherine pulled a deeply flushed Ann up onto the small stage. She sank heavily in her chair, barely hearing Tib’s bellow of laughter.</p><p>“I guess we’re staying.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>This chapter did not go quite how I thought it would, but here we are. Feeling a bit like that Anne diary entry where she’s like “at my desk at 7:50... heavy and stupid.” Oh well, we tried. This was a bit of a filler chapter anyway. I am resisting the urge to explain every choice and just let the story speak for itself.</p><p>I wonder how much interest there is in more scenes with the two families coming together (like Tib and Pic at the Listers’, the Listers mingling with the Sutherlands and/or the Rawson, etc) in the wedding arc, vs. just, like, focusing on Ann(e)s. What do you think?</p><p>Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Paper Rings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yes I’m on my Taylor Swift grind. This is the last one like this.<br/>(very brief mention of vomit about 2/3 the way down)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Go on!” Elizabeth yelled from her seat; Catherine tugged on her hand. “Annie! Go!”</p><p>Reluctantly, Ann laughed and followed her friend up onto the little stage. It was warm in the bar, especially under the additional lights hovering over the tiny, short stage. Anne and her friends were on the opposite side from Ann’s table; just her presence at the base of the stage sent a thrill up her spine. Catherine squeezed her hand before abandoning her as the music started. Her stomach twisted with nerves, but Elizabeth hooted from the crowd and Ann felt better. Maybe it was that. Maybe it was the residual high of their bathroom tryst. Maybe it was the slightly naughty feeling of air between her legs, knowing that Anne held her underwear in her pocket. <br/>She gripped the cheap microphone tightly, grateful that the lights were not so bright that she couldn’t see her sister’s encouraging face.</p><p>
  <i>“The moon is high<br/>Like your friends were the night that we first met<br/>Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet”</i>
</p><p>With a burst of courage she turned to Anne, who was beaming, her eyes wide and her lips parted.</p><p>
  <i>“Now I've read all of the books beside your bed<br/>The wine is cold<br/>Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street<br/>Cat and mouse for a month or two or three<br/>Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe.”</i>
</p><p>”Creep!” Catherine heckled, which actually made Ann feel better. Braver. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right. She hopped to the floor, pulling Anne onto her feet by the front of her shirt. </p><p>
  <i>“Kiss me once 'cause you know I had a long night”</i>
</p><p>Ann tapped her cheek, and Anne, dutifully, pressed her lips to her cheek.</p><p>
  <i>“Kiss me twice 'cause it's gonna be alright.”</i>
</p><p>She tapped her cheek again, and Anne kissed her sharply twice, wrapping a hand around her waist.</p><p>
  <i>“Three times 'cause I waited my whole life.”</i>
</p><p>She tapped her cheek, but then turned her face quickly to catch Anne’s lips. Anne laughed into the kiss and settled her warm hands on Ann’s hips. Giggling, Ann pulled back just in time to keep singing; with Anne’s strong arms around her, she felt impossibly brave. </p><p>
  <i>“I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings.<br/>Uh-huh, that's right,<br/>Darling, you're the one I want, and<br/>I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this”</i>
</p><p>She ran her free hand along Anne’s chest, grinning widely and nodding.</p><p>
  <i>“Uh-huh, that's right,<br/>Darling, you're the one I want<br/>In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams.”</i>
</p><p>She bucked her hips against Anne’s before twisting away to climb back onto the stage. She was lucky she knew this song so well, because the fire in Anne’s eyes was enough to drive her to distraction. Catherine cheered from the floor, and Ann turned back to her for the second verse, bouncing lightly with the beat. The liquor started to hit her - the liquor and the music and the euphoria of the night - and she danced back to her wife, plopping down in her lap, leaning her back into the table, her legs dangling over one side of those long, long legs. </p><p>
  <i>“Kiss you once 'cause I know you had a long night”</i>
</p><p>She took Anne’s strong chin in her hand so that Anne stared straight ahead and kissed her cheek.</p><p>
  <i>“Kiss you twice 'cause it's gonna be alright.”</i>
</p><p>She peppered a series of kisses on Anne’s quickly reddening cheek. </p><p>
  <i>“Three times 'cause I waited my whole life.”</i>
</p><p>This time, Anne twisted to catch her in a deep kiss, her hand sliding up Ann’s leg in a display that was probably a bit too much for this public setting. Ann didn’t care. She was tipsy and singing and in love. Faintly, she heard Catherine shout from the far side of the room, and Ann pulled herself away. She danced over to her friend and sister.</p><p>
  <i>“I want to drive away with you<br/>I want your complications too<br/>I want your dreary Mondays<br/>Wrap your arms around me -”</i>
</p><p>Catherine hopped up, pulling Ann to her; they danced and shouted together for the rest of the song. The other patrons probably didn’t appreciate it, but Ann was having the time of her life. When she finally sat down, she was out of breath and grinning and full of joy. Elizabeth squeezed her shoulder with a laugh.</p><p>“You might as well shag her right here,” Elizabeth teased in her ear. </p><p>Ann just laughed and shook her head. Across the room, Anne was making eyes at her, and Ann nearly got up to join her table. She wanted nothing more than to drag Anne back into that bathroomS Her phone buzzed with a text:</p><p>“Stay over there. Enjoy your night with your friends. I’m loving you from here. P.S. you’re a good singer.”</p><p>Ann looked up, turning to find her handsome face; Anne just winked once then turned back to Tib. Was there anyone more considerate than Anne Lister? Wanting her to have a night with her girls? So, so concerned about being possessive or keeping Ann from anything? Still smiling, Ann turned to her table, her back warm as if Anne were staring at her even now.</p><p>“I’d give it a seven,” Elizabeth said. “Good voice and you knew all the words, but you spent a lot of time snogging Anne and too long dancing with Catherine.”</p><p>“I give it an eleven!” Catherine yelled, fiddling with her empty glass. “Dancing, hot lap action, Taylor Swift. Perfect!”</p><p>“I’ll take it,” Ann chuckled, “especially since nobody warned me I’d be singing as soon as I came back from the toilet.”</p><p>“Well, we didn’t know you’d be gone so bloody long!” Catherine tried to get the server’s attention; sighing, she stood. “Another right, Annie?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Nervous?” Elizabeth asked. </p><p>“What?” Ann turned to her.</p><p>“Are you nervous? For the wedding?”</p><p>“Not really,” she shrugged. “My dress is ready, and everything is pretty well decided.”</p><p>“The reception is at,” Liz paused, “<i>Shibden</i>? Are you sure?”</p><p>“What? What do you mean?”</p><p>“It’s not the biggest house,” Liz said carefully.</p><p>“It’s our house. It’s - I mean, we wouldn’t have it anywhere else.”</p><p>“Do you not - do you think people will be chilly? Out there in the garden?”</p><p>“Well, no, Liz, actually, we have thought of that,” Ann couldn’t help the annoyance in her voice; her sister was always doing this, treating her like a child. “The wedding planner suggested this tent situation that - basically it’s like a heated room outside. It’ll be midday, and the forecast actually looks pretty warm. We’ve got it taken care of. I think it’ll be really nice, actually, but if you’re going to be too cold, you -”</p><p>“No, no, no, I - alright,” Elizabeth chuckled, “I hear you. You’re an adult, and I’m sure it’ll be lovely. Besides, it’s not like Lister is likely to let any detail go unnoticed.”</p><p>“No, it’s not.”</p><p>“Don’t be cross, Annie. I’m just looking out for you.”</p><p>“Annie’s cross?” Catherine asked, as she set two blue concoctions on the table. “What’d you do to her?”</p><p>“I asked one question about the wedding,” Elizabeth answered easily. “Now she’s pouting.”</p><p>“I’m not pouting.”</p><p>“Annie,” Catherine drawled. “Get over it! It’s your fucking night!”</p><p>With a sharp swat on the back, Catherine managed to expel Ann’s bad mood. That, and the sickeningly sweet drink she demanded that Ann drink. Even as it passed her lips, Ann knew she hadn’t seen the last of that blue color. Catherine prattled on about her new boyfriend, her dull office job, her plans for the summer. They cheered when Tib got onstage to sing, but quickly returned to their conversation as an aggressively twanging guitar played from the speakers. Ann scrunched her nose in distaste; she wasn’t much for American country music unless it was Anne that day in the chaumière. Then Liz struck her excitedly on the arm. </p><p>“What?” Ann rubbed her arm. “God, you all can’t stop hitting me tonight.”</p><p>“Look,” Elizabeth hissed. </p><p>Up on the stage, almost unbelievably, was Anne Lister, looking bashful and annoyed and a bit unsteady on her feet. She seemed impossibly taller, her legs miles long in those grey slacks, her white shirt crumpled and creased from a day’s wear and Ann’s wandering hands. Ann licked her lips as Anne ran her hand through her hair, which only made her brown locks messier. Her long fingers curled and uncurled nervously around the microphone. Her voice, when she started was flat and dry and perfectly in rhythm; there was a sort of careless arrogance about her that made Ann’s skin burn.</p><p>
  <i>“Well, I’m a thoroughbred, that’s what she said,<br/>In the back of my truck bed, <br/>As I was gettin’ <br/>Buzzed on suds out on some back country road.”</i>
</p><p>Anne seemed to be enjoying herself, especially now that Tib had abandoned her to breathe down Frances’s neck. Even from here, Ann thought she could see Tib’s thick hand sliding up Frances’s thigh. She tore her gaze away, back to her wife, who was almost aggressive in her confidence and swaggering with her hips out, one hand in her pocket. Ann’s core clenched at the memory of the white lace that doubtlessly slid between her fingers.</p><p>
  <i>“We were flyin’ high fine as wine,<br/>Havin’ ourselves a big and rich time,<br/>And I was goin’ just about as far as she’d let me go.”</i>
</p><p>Anne hopped to the floor and dropped to her knees in one graceful motion; she looked up at Anne, with a rakish smirk and a sneaky hand on her calf.</p><p>
  <i>“But her evaluation of my cowboy reputation<br/>Had me beggin’ for salvation all night long.<br/>So I took her out giggin’ frogs,<br/>Introduced her to my old bird dog,”</i>
</p><p>Tib hooted from the stage. Ann hadn’t even seen her get back up there. Her entire world had been reduced to her wife’s low voice, her handsome face in half-shadow, her strong hand slipping up to Ann’s knee. </p><p>
  <i>“Sang her every Willie Nelson song I could think of,”</i>
</p><p>Tib’s shouting overpowered Anne’s low husk on the final line:</p><p>
  <i>“And we made love.”</i>
</p><p>Anne kissed her hard and fast, then scrambled onto the stage to wrap an arm around Tib’s shoulders as they sang the final chorus in unison.</p><p>
  <i>“Then I saddle up my horse, and I ride into the city.<br/>I make a lotta noise ‘cause the girls, they are so pretty.<br/>Ridin’ up and down Broadway on my old study Leroy. <br/>And the girls say<br/>‘Save a horse, ride a cowboy.’”</i>
</p><p>Anne hopped to the floor again, this time plopping down into Ann’s lap, her knees bracketing Ann’s hips. Wide-eyed and barely able to breathe, Ann trailed her hands along the front of her wife’s shirt. Anne dropped the microphone, her voice turning to a low, ragged husk.</p><p>
  <i>“Everybody says <br/>Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”</i>
</p><p>Maybe Ann would die like this. She couldn’t believe how fast her heart was racing or how handsome her future wife was. Anne licked her lips, flicking her eyes between Ann’s lips and her eyes. Ann tilted her chin; their lips had just met in the softest of teasing kisses when Anne was suddenly wrenched away from her. Ann sputtered as a laughing Tib dragged Anne away. </p><p>“You two are animals,” Catherine laughed as Ann turned back to the table, her chest still heaving. “What’s the longest you’ve spent apart?”</p><p>“One day?” Ann said without thinking, her head still swimming with desire and the loss of Anne’s warm body. “Never overnight.”</p><p>“Never?” Elizabeth and Catherine said in unison.</p><p>“No,” Ann said softly, her brow furrowed. “Why?”</p><p>“God, no wonder,” Catherine giggled. “Do you just shag all the time?”</p><p>“Or fight?” Liz asked. </p><p>“Not really. I mean, we,” Ann took a sip of her drink, attempting to ease her impossibly dry throat, “we argue sometimes. Never anything major.”</p><p>“You’re lying,” Catherine cut in.</p><p>“No, really! I mean, sometimes, yeah, we have a disagreement, but I can see through Anne pretty well, like why she’s being a prick. And she’s gotten really good at seeing what upsets me and - we talk it out a lot. And then, you know, that’s a good excuse to,” she shrugged, blushing as if she hadn’t just had Anne Lister, of all people in her lap in the middle of a half-empty bar. </p><p>“To what?” Catherine pressed.</p><p>“To shag, Cat,” Liz rolled her eyes. “I think your girl is on her way out.”</p><p>Ann turned over her shoulder to see her wife shrug apologetically on her way out the door. They were really doing this, she figured, spending the night apart. Her gut twisted. </p><p>“Miss her already, Annie?” Liz asked gently.</p><p>“I think I might,” Ann whispered as Catherine shuttled away. “I’ve never, uh, I haven’t gone to sleep on my own - you know, without her since we got together.”</p><p>“You’ll be okay.”</p><p>“I know,” Ann nodded, reassuring herself. “I know, I know.</p><p>“It’s okay to miss her. It’s nice.”</p><p>“We should be able to spend one night apart. That’s - I mean, that’s easy. I can stand one night.”</p><p>“Of course you can,” Liz said indulgently. </p><p>“What are we talking about?” Catherine set down two shot glasses and two more of those blue glasses. “What’s going on?”</p><p>“Annie is missing Dr. Lister already.”</p><p>“Oh, Ann.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Ann protested, though she wasn’t sure if she believed it. “I can sleep by myself.”</p><p>“Yes you can,” Catherine pressed a shot into her hand. “Because you’re going to pass out on the bathroom floor like you usually do.”</p><p>“Cat!”</p><p>“Yes, you are,” Liz encouraged. “Go on, do it for me.”</p><p>And she did. Of course she did. She’d never been able to stand up to her sister or her best friend, and certainly not the two together. She chased the shot with that sticky sweet blue drink, her chest swelling with warmth from the liquor and the company and the anticipation. When did this second drink get here? Or was it the third? The day after tomorrow would be her wedding day. She couldn’t even get nervous because she couldn’t really believe it. Before she knew it, she was swaying in the back of Elizabeth’s minivan, grateful for the booster seats propping her up on either side. </p><p>“Lizabeth,” she slurred.</p><p>“Yes?” Elizabeth flicked her eyes up to the rear view mirror.</p><p>“If I puke. You gonna be mad?”</p><p>“Not really,” Elizabeth chuckled. </p><p>“I will be!” Catherine protested. “If you puke, I’ll puke.”</p><p>“I don’t <i>wanna</i> puke. Imma try not to. I wan- I wanna see Anne.”</p><p>“I know, honey, but we’re going home. It’s quite late. We’ll just go home and get right into bed, alright?”</p><p>“Pony reads to me,” Ann said with the proud chin-lift of the inebriated. </p><p>“What?” Catherine laughed.</p><p>“When I’m going to sleep,” Ann explained as if her friend had not understood the basic concept, “my Pony reads to me.”</p><p>“I guess that’s Dr. Lister then?” Catherine asked.</p><p>“I think so,” Liz said softly.</p><p>“She reads to me, and I fall asleep,” Ann tried to snap, but her fingers moved soundlessly, “like that.”</p><p>“I bet,” Catherine laughed.</p><p>Then, suddenly, Ann was bent over the toilet, her throat burning and the toilet flushing. Her hair had been pulled back from her face, a warm hand rubbed her back. Her sister’s voice was soft and warm against the back of her neck.</p><p>“Alright, love, think you can go to bed?”</p><p>Ann nodded weakly, allowing Elizabeth to lead her up the stairs to her bedroom, the room she’d shared with Anne. The room where she and Anne had made love for the first time. The room where she and Anne had done unspeakably dirty things away from the prying ears of the Listers. Ann didn’t remember it feeling this big before. </p><p>“Here we go,” Elizabeth slid down the zipper to her dress. “Good Lord, Ann, you’re not wearing any pants.”</p><p>“Anne has them,” she whined, covering her blushing face with her hands. </p><p>“You two,” her sister admonished with a shake of her head. “Come on.”</p><p>Ann managed to stay vertical while Elizabeth dressed her in soft sweatpants and a t-shirt. She led Ann to the bed and tucked her in carefully before indicating a plastic bucket on the floor.</p><p>“Try to make it to the toilet, alright? But if you can’t, here you are. Phone’s on the nightstand. Water and meds too.”</p><p>“Thank you,” she said softly, and with a gentle smile, her sister was gone.</p><p>Ann flopped onto her back spreading her arms and legs wide in this too-big bed. She couldn’t believe she used to sleep here every night by herself. The alcohol had almost totally worn off - throwing up usually did the trick - and now she was desperately lonely. The lumpy pillow she hugged to her chest just wasn’t the same, even when she closed her eyes. It was too quiet. She reached for her phone.</p><p>“Hello?” Anne’s sleepy voice was raspy and rough; Ann could picture her in their bed, rubbing her eyes. She’d’ve answered the phone without looking. </p><p>“Hi, Pony,” she said softly, unable to stop the wide smile from spreading across her face. </p><p>“Adney,” her wife sighed; Ann could picture the way her eyes crinkled when she spoke this way, the gentle smile playing at her lips, “how are you? Is everything okay?”</p><p>“I just miss you.”</p><p>“I miss you,” Anne said sincerely, “but I do think it’s - you know, it’s good for us. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all of that.”</p><p>“I guess.”</p><p>For a moment neither of them spoke; Ann closed her eyes, focusing on the rhythmic cadence of Anne’s breath. </p><p>“You’re a very good singer, Pony.”</p><p>“Am I?” Anne laughed. “Oh, <i>God</i> that was embarrassing.”</p><p>“You did amazing.”</p><p>“Well, Tib dared me, and then she was ribbing me from the stage, and - oh, you know how I get. Can’t let anything go.”</p><p>“I couldn’t believe how hot you were,” Ann said sincerely, not even trying to be sultry. At this moment, she was just telling her favorite person how proud she was of her. “You had this swagger, and - oh, gosh the way your voice was? Kind of flat and twangy and - oh, it was really good. Really, really good. I bet everyone in there wanted you.”</p><p>“I bet no one in there even noticed,” Anne chuckled. </p><p>“I did,” Ann breathed.</p><p>“Well, I couldn’t have you show me up,” Anne teased, “with that little display. Snogging me in the middle of the bar.”</p><p>“You straddled me!”</p><p>“You started it!”</p><p>They both burst out laughing. As Ann caught her breath, however, she found that undercurrent of desire. Her right hand played along her cotton-clad thigh. </p><p>“Did you - were my pants in your pocket that whole time?”</p><p>“Yes,” came the husky reply.</p><p>“Anne.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Are you - are you touching yourself?”</p><p>“No,” she answered slowly, “my fiancée told me not to.”</p><p>“Fiancée, is it?” Ann teased. “You usually call me your wife.”</p><p>“You’re usually in my bed.”</p><p>“Are you cross with me?”</p><p>“Of course not, I - actually, I was just trying to think of you as my fiancée for a few days. Then, on Tuesday, I can say you’re my wife. For real.”</p><p>“You’re a sap, Pony.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>Another beat of silence. Ann’s hand had snuck its way under her sweats - when did that happen?</p><p>“You’re a cruel mistress, Ann Walker.”</p><p>“What?” Ann smiled at her wife’s tone, the slight breathiness under her low voice. </p><p>“Leaving me with just this flimsy lace. When you know how weak I am.”</p><p>“You’re the strongest person I know,” Ann chuckled. </p><p>“Not when it comes to you.”</p><p>The roughness to Anne’s voice. The mental image slowly forming in her mind. The emptiness of this bed where they’d shared so much. Ann twisted her hips, realizing her sister had not re-dressed her in any underwear. Arousal coursed through her veins and between her legs. </p><p>“Pony.”</p><p>“Adney.”</p><p>“I miss you.”</p><p>“I miss you.”</p><p>“Come over here,” Ann whined.</p><p>“We’re pathetic, aren’t we?” Anne laughed. “One bloody night.”</p><p>“I think we’re lucky,” Ann said softly. “Liz and Cat were, like, really surprised.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“That we’ve never spent a night apart.”</p><p>“Tib and Pic gave me some shit too,” she chuckled. “As if they didn’t shag in the loo at the bar.”</p><p>“<i>We</i> did that, Pony!”</p><p>“Well, we’re getting married!”</p><p>“Not much of a defense,” Ann laughed. </p><p>Silence again. Ann wondered if the moment had passed. If it was too late for dirty talk. Maybe it was sweeter if they just fell asleep on the phone, untainted. Then Anne exhaled harshly.</p><p>“This bed feels too big,” Anne said softly. “Without you.”</p><p>“I know. This one too.”</p><p>“It’s hard not to - I’m about to put mittens on, Adney.”</p><p>“Mittens?”</p><p>“My hand keeps,” Anne paused, “drifting.”</p><p>“Mine too.”</p><p>“Ann!” Her wife laughed. “You told me not to!”</p><p>“Well!”</p><p>A beat. Ann bit her lip and spread her legs. </p><p>“You know what I was wondering?” Anne’s voice was impossibly lower, rougher.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“What it’d be like, if - if on Tuesday night, uh - what it would feel like to - to have you inside of me.”</p><p>“Anne.”</p><p>She couldn’t believe it. This was something they never talked about anymore. Ann had darted her tongue into her wife’s core, but nothing more substantial than that. Would she - God, what would it be like to -</p><p>“Ann?”</p><p>“Yeah?” Ann shook her head, trying to return to the present. </p><p>“Is that - never mind, I -”</p><p>“No! No, I - Pony, that’s,” she sighed, “that would be incredible.”</p><p>“I just - I just wondered.”</p><p>“Are you sure, darling?”</p><p>“I am.”</p><p>Ann whined, her mind reeling with the significance of this confession and the possibilities it offered. She heard Anne’s breathing grow heavier.</p><p>“You’re doing it, aren’t you? You’re touching yourself?”</p><p>“No!” Anne protested. “I - uh, I -”</p><p>“I am,” Ann breathed, slipping her hand between her legs. </p><p>“Are you?”</p><p>“Yes.” She circled her clit, her eyes drifting closed. “I’m thinking about you - and that bloody song.”</p><p>“Are you?” Anne said again, her voice taking on that sultry lilt. “Would you - uh, like to ride me?”</p><p>“You know I would.”</p><p>They breathed together for a few moments. Ann needed more. </p><p>“Tell me what you’re doing.”</p><p>“Hand in my shorts,” Anne chuckled. “You know.”</p><p>“Pony,” she whined, “what are you thinking about? Are you touching your - be more specific.”</p><p>“I’m touching my clit, how’s that?” Anne chuckled breathlessly. “The way you do. All circles and the pads of your fingers. It’s not as good as you though.”</p><p>Ann moaned softly, circling her own clit, trying to mimic the way Anne usually touched her. </p><p>“I’m thinking about you in my lap at the bar. Your panties in my hand. That time - unh, that time you sucked me off.”</p><p>Ann gasped at her wife’s words, the memory of that moment, the building heat in her gut. Her hips rolled gently into her own hand, and she snaked a hand under her shirt to palm her breast. </p><p>“Are you touching your chest?” Anne asked, her breath growing more ragged. </p><p>“I am,” she laughed breathlessly. “I just started.”</p><p>“I wish you were here, baby.”</p><p>“Me too,” Ann panted, her hips twitching as she neared the edge. “I - fuck, I - keep talking.”</p><p>“I miss your lips,” she husked. “I wish I could kiss you right now. I - I miss your tits.”</p><p>“My tits?” She chuckled again, speeding her hand up as her fingertips slipped through her arousal. </p><p>“Yeah, I don’t - I know how you - how you feel about that word, but - fuck - you have good tits.”</p><p>“Do I?”</p><p>“The best. I want them - I want you - I -”</p><p>“Pony,” she keened.</p><p>“If you were here,” Anne panted, “I would - fuck, I would fuck you so hard.”</p><p>“Would you?” Her voice was little more than a squeak.</p><p>“I wish I were inside you right now, Ann. You feel so good in my hands - I - fuck, I’m close.”</p><p>“Me too.”</p><p>Their desperate whines and guttural moans twisted together, augmenting their heavy breathing crackling through the phone. Ann’s hips jerked with the first wave of her release; she gasped a moan, underscored by Anne’s soft hum. She sped up, drawing every drop of pleasure from her own core, arching forward and clutching her phone desperately to her ear. Every low grunt and sharp inhalation from her wife seemed to jolt straight to her clit. She shuddered, then sagged back into the sheets, smiling crookedly as she heard Anne ride out the last of her release. </p><p>“Adney,” her wife sighed, then chuckled. “Oh, man.”</p><p>“I know.” </p><p>“One night,” she laughed; Ann could hear the rustling as her wife shook her head. “We can’t keep apart for one night.”</p><p>“Why should we?” Ann slipped under the covers, rolling onto her side and snuggling into the pillow. She balanced the phone on her cheek. “Like, what’s wrong with wanting each other so much?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Anne said thoughtfully. “I do wonder - you know, other couples are not like this.”</p><p>“Poor them.”</p><p>Anne’s laugh made her grin and filled her chest with warmth. When she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend Anne was there with her. </p><p>“You’re tired, aren’t you, Adney?”</p><p>“You know me too well.”</p><p>“I’ll let you go to sleep, darling.”</p><p>“No,” Ann whined. “I can’t - it’s been so long since I fell asleep without you.”</p><p>“I know,” her wife said softly. “For me too.”</p><p>“Just talk to me. Please?”</p><p>“Of course, what do you want me to talk about?”</p><p>“Anything.”</p><p>It didn’t matter, and Ann didn’t listen. Not really. She just needed the familiarity of her wife’s rambling stories, the reassurance of her low voice, the warm embrace of her presence, even if just through the phone. It only took a few minutes, and she was asleep, though the call log would show nearly an hour of Anne’s melodious voice comforting them both.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!!</p><p>This chapter is a bit scatter-brained, but I wanted to cover a few things and kind of explore this idea of the Ann(e)s spending too much time together. I don’t think they do, and I think it’s normal at this stage in their relationship. It’s okay, I think, for them to want to spend time with each other above all else. At the same time, I think it’s important that Anne, as the older/more experienced one, to encourage Ann to stay out with Catherine and Elizabeth, even if she’d rather have Ann at home too. Maybe?</p><p>Thank yoU!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Rehearsal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’ll wash your hands,” Anne flatly told the priest. </p><p>“Pardon?” </p><p>The young priest furrowed his brow, rocking on the balls of his feet as they waited for the Walker side to arrive. Anne leaned against the last pew in the back. They’d arrived early, and now the various Listers were lounging with affected ease. At least, for Anne it was affected. Marian chattered amiably with Aunt Anne. Tib loomed over Pic, one arm braced on the wall above her, her face nuzzled into the side of Pic’s neck as she whispered something sinful in her ear. Groaning with annoyance and jealousy, Anne regarded her father, the only one who seemed as nervous as she was. He jangled the coins in his pocket and seemed to be constantly looking out the door toward the street. They’d agreed to meet at this church in York at ten, and it was now 9:57. She turned back to the feckless priest. </p><p>“Tomorrow morning, before we arrive,” she said slowly, “you will wash your hands.”</p><p>“Sure,” he shrugged, and Anne lost the little respect for him she’d had. Too young, she thought. She’d thought that from the first “premarital counseling” she and Ann had been forced to attend. In a way, Anne wished they’d just gone to their little chapel in Halifax, but Ann preferred the Gothic elegance of this church. “I’ll wear the red stole, since it’s Holy Week.” </p><p>“Okay,” Anne said, turning away from him. Worthless. Mary Sutherland ran into her view. Her sour mood instantly lifted. “Here they are!”</p><p>Mary ran straight past her and up the aisle, with her hapless father trudging behind her. Sutherland clapped Anne on the shoulder as he passed. Elizabeth appeared next, with Elisabeth in her arms and Sackville holding his mother’s hand. He looked shy for the first time in Anne’s experience; his thumb was tucked between his lips, and his eyes were wide as they entered the quiet church. Anne’s heart swelled at the sight of this subdued version of her nephew. </p><p>Then it swelled again as her fiancée appeared. She leaned heavily into Catherine, her hair pulled back and her face ashen; she still looked a bit green around the gills. Poor darling, Anne thought - Catherine always wanted to drink too much and Ann followed along. Even in this hungover state, Ann was the most beautiful woman in the room. In any room. Her jeans hugged her hips, her thin pink sweater clung to her shoulders, and Anne immediately wanted to take her in her arms. She’d just stepped forward when her father beat her to it. </p><p>“Miss Walker,” he said softly, “can I - may I speak with you?”</p><p>Anne watched their interaction closely, barely noticing Sackville’s timid hand slipping into her own.</p><p>“Of course,” Ann answered, stepping to the side. They were a strange pair: stooped Captain Lister in his thick, musty jumper and bald head, and young Ann, with her blonde curls and gentle smile. “What is it?”</p><p>“I wondered, well, I had been thinking. I’m not sure if you - if you had thought about the way we would do this. The way you want to do it. But, uh, I would be honored, Smallest Ann.” Anne watched her father smile in a soft sort of way that she’d rarely seen. “If you would allow me to escort you down the aisle. Now, if you - if you don’t -”</p><p>“I would love that,” Ann said quickly, a broad smile spreading across her face. “That would be - I would love that.”</p><p>Anne narrowed her eyes, assessing this tender moment. With her father, she was confused; when had he become so demonstrative? What was his angle? For Ann, she was overjoyed. She knew that Ann had fretted about walking down the aisle alone, but she hadn’t wanted Sutherland or Elizabeth to walk with her. There was no one else in the tribe she cared for, so she’d resigned herself to walk alone. Anne wished she’d thought of this solution earlier. </p><p>“Well, then,” the priest clapped his hands together, “are we all here?”</p><p>“Yes,” Anne answered, finally looking down at Sackville, “and how are you?”</p><p>The boy smiled around his thumb, and Anne winked at him.</p><p>“Excellent. For those of you I haven’t met, my name is Stephen Mason. You can call me Father Steve.” Anne most certainly would not. “We’ll just walk through the steps today. From what the couple has told me, this will be a very simple service. Now, where are the bridesmaids?”</p><p>Marian, Tib, Elizabeth, and Catherine raised their hands. </p><p>“Excellent, now, Dr. Lister, you indicated you would be starting at the altar -”</p><p>“Like hell she will,” Aunt Anne cut in. “Sorry, Father, but - Anne, I’ll walk you in. You should - you should walk in.”</p><p>“Aunt, no, I -”</p><p>“Anne, I have waited a long time to see you get married. Do an old woman a favor, and walk me up to the front.”</p><p>“Okay,” Anne said quietly, chastened by her aunt’s sharp tone and the eyes of the entire family on her. It had never occurred to her that Aunt Anne, with her cane and arthritis and perpetually creaking joints, would want to walk her down the aisle. She’d just always assumed she’d be the groom, waiting nervously at the front. </p><p>“Great, then let’s find our places,” Father Mason cut in. “Am I right in my understanding that there will be a very small audience?”</p><p>“Just these,” Anne said, “and - Marian, is Thomas coming to this?”</p><p>“You said he couldn’t.”</p><p>“Oh, right. Well, then.” Anne considered - it seemed a foregone conclusion that Pic would be in attendance. Anne didn’t mind that, but she did feel a bit strange with so many empty pews. “I guess he can come. If he’s free.”</p><p>“Really?” Marian’s jaw dropped.</p><p>“This <i>once</i>,” Anne said sternly.</p><p>“Oh, you’re planning to get married again?” Marian teased, already pulling out her phone. </p><p>“Sounds good,” Father Mason said cheerily. “We’ll have Dr. Lister’s side first. You, sir?” He turned to Tib. “Or - ma’am?”</p><p>“Either one,” Tib said affably, towering over the short priest with a benevolent smile. </p><p>“Right, so you, and then Marian, right?” </p><p>Marian stood with a nod. </p><p>“Great, let’s do that much.”</p><p>Sutherland settled the children in the front pew on the left, and Pic scurried up to the opposite pew on the right. Luckily, the aisle was fairly short, and Tib and Marian took their places near the curved altar rail with little fanfare.</p><p>“There will be music, of course,” Father Mason said, taking his place in the center. “Then let’s have Dr. Lister.”</p><p>Anne took her Aunt’s arm, and they walked up to the front of the church, the soft soles of their shoes falling soundlessly on the marble floor. For a moment, Anne resented her aunt for making her walk so slowly. If she were on her own, Anne could run to the front and be done with it. As it was, she’d have ages to think about everything, to build up tears, to embarrass herself. After an eternity, she deposited Aunt Anne in the pew with Pic and stood next to her sister. She turned back to see Catherine and Elizabeth strolling down the aisle, arm-in-arm.</p><p>“Hey, I like that!” Marian said. “Let’s do it like that, Tib.”</p><p>“I’ve been waiting years for you to say that,” Tib purred.</p><p>“Tib!” Pic called from her seat.</p><p>“Just playing, love.”</p><p>Then came the love of Anne’s life. And her father. Anne shoved her hands in her pockets, curling her hands into fists and attempting to curb her need to fidget. She wasn’t sure how she would be able to stand it tomorrow morning, when Ann was in her dress and everything was real. Father squeezed Ann’s hand tightly before ducking into the pew with the Sutherlands. Always a dark horse, he took the softly whining Mary from her father and instantly soothed her. Anne narrowed her eyes again.</p><p>“Hi,” Ann said softly, jerking Anne’s attention back to the present moment.</p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>“Right,” the priest broke between them, “so we’ll do the vows first, yes? Very simple, your lines are ‘I will.’ Sound good?”</p><p>“Yes,” they answered in unison, then laughed. Ann took her hand. </p><p>“That’s good,” Father Mason pronounced. “A lot of couples hold hands during. Will you have a veil? Either of you?”</p><p>“Not me,” Anne said quickly. The priest turned his attention to Ann.</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>“Right, so we’ll want that removed. When she comes up, eh?” He turned to Captain Lister, who nodded his head. “Or you can do it, Dr. Lister, I suppose.”</p><p>“If he forgets,” Anne said softly, winking at Ann.</p><p>It was heaven, holding Ann’s hand while she giggled at her joke in this church. Anne could almost forget her nerves, the grating voice of the priest, her ridiculous family. As long as she had Ann, the rest of it didn’t matter.</p><p>“Now, my understanding is that you two want to take the Sacrament together?”</p><p>“We do,” Anne answered, drawing a groan from Marian. “What’s your problem?”</p><p>“That’s, like, the longest part of church. We’ll be here all bloody day.”</p><p>“Oh, sorry my <i>wedding</i> is taking up too much of your time,” Anne shot back.</p><p>“Girls,” Aunt Anne called tiredly from her seat.</p><p>“We were just going to take Communion, right?” Ann interceded. “Not - uh, not offer it to - you know?”</p><p>“Right,” Father Mason nodded, as if just now remembering, “right, right. We’ll do that after the blessings. Basically, it’ll look like this. Walk in. Vows and rings. Then you’ll kneel - can you both kneel in what you’ll be wearing?” They nodded; Anne filed that fact away about her future wife’s dress. “You’ll kneel, and I’ll do some prayers. I think - at that point, bridesmaids, you all can return to your seats.”</p><p>The party shifted - Anne and Ann dropped to their knees at the altar rail, Marian and Tib going to the open front pew behind Anne, while Elizabeth and Catherine did the same behind Ann. Anne nudged her shoulder, grinning playfully. Ann clicked her tongue in reprimand, but she was smiling too. </p><p>“Blessing, blessing, blessing.”</p><p>Anne started to wish this man would go into a bit more detail. At the same time, she wanted to save the exact words for tomorrow. </p><p>“We’ve got some already blessed bread and wine, and we’ll do that.”</p><p>Anne and Ann nodded at the priest. </p><p>“Then I’ll have you stand.” They did. “We’ll do one last blessing, and then you may kiss your bride.”</p><p>“Do you want to practice that bit?” Anne whispered. </p><p>Ann just giggled, but then Tib hollered from her seat.</p><p>“Kiss her, Lister!”</p><p>“I think we’ve got it,” Anne laughed, her face reddening. </p><p>“Go on,” Elizabeth called. </p><p>“Kiss her!” Catherine yelled.</p><p>“Anne!” Marian joined the chorus.</p><p>Anne turned back to her blushing bride, grinning and shrugging. Ann draped her arms around her neck, and their lips met for a soft, fleeting moment. They both pulled away with a smile. </p><p>“I might be sick,” Marian grumbled.</p><p>“You!” Anne laughed, turning to her sister. “You were shouting at us! All of you!”</p><p>“Well, you’d better practice before tomorrow, mate,” Tib said as she rose to her feet. “That’s an embarrassment.”</p><p>Anne laughed, but she thought about it all the way home. She and Ann had better steal away this afternoon to practice. She wanted to get it just right. There was going to be a photographer, and Anne would love a nice photo of their wedding kiss. Perhaps for her desk. Well, not where the students could see it. Certainly for the background of her phone. Printed and hung around the house. She was still thinking about it when they pulled into Shibden, too lost in her own thoughts to realize the Sutherlands had followed them over until Sackville crashed into her legs. </p><p>“There he is,” she laughed, reaching down to muss his hair. “You feeling okay? You were awfully quiet at the church.”</p><p>“He gets nervous,” Sutherland whispered, “around new people.”</p><p>“Ah,” Anne nodded as the family trundled inside. </p><p>Tib and Pic had driven themselves, but they had also returned to the house. Catherine did not appear, and Anne assumed she’d gone home until tomorrow. Ann looped an arm through hers as they walked inside, Sackville still latched to Anne’s free hand. </p><p>“Hi, Pony,” she said softly. </p><p>“Hi,” Anne answered, feeling like she could actually speak to her fiancée for the first time all day. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“A bit hungover, if I’m honest,” Ann chuckled, “but better now. Do you mind that we’re here? Sackville insisted on seeing you.”</p><p>“I’m delighted,” Anne answered truthfully as they made their way to the living room. Father had lunch plans and quickly shuffled out the door, but Aunt Anne said down happily in her recliner. She seemed to enjoy the loud bustle of the family all around her. “Catherine gone home?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ann pushed her into their chair before curling up in her lap, resting her head on Anne’s shoulder. “Will you be cross if I take a nap?”</p><p>“Of course not.” </p><p>Anne kissed the top of her head and looked at her watch. Just about noon. Elizabeth and Marian were disappearing into the kitchen. Tib sat down heavily on the floor, Sackville and Mary standing next to her, their tiny heads even with hers; they seemed to be very interested in the cut of her hair and the ink on her skin. Pic hovered behind her, her long legs bracketing Tib’s shoulders. They made a nice couple, Anne thought absently. Sutherland dropped into Father’s recliner with the baby, chatting quietly with Aunt Anne. What an eclectic family, she mused. All tied together in the strangest of ways - well, she amended, not strange at all. They’d been brought together by love and mutual affection. Wasn’t that better than most families connected by blood alone? Tomorrow, by this time, Ann would be her wife. Her actual, legal wife. Anne looked down at her dozing face and smiled. </p><p>“What’s this?” Sackville demanded, tugging on the chain around Tib’s belt loop.</p><p>“Why is your hair like this?” Mary asked, running her chubby hand through Tib’s pompadour. “And why is it so sticky?”</p><p>Tib just laughed, seemingly unbothered by the children’s probing hands and questions. Elizabeth reappeared. </p><p>“Mary and Sackville, leave Miss Norcliffe alone and come on. Aunty Lister will you let you play in her garden, <i>only</i> if you eat your lunch.”</p><p>“That’s right,” Anne said seriously, and the children raced out of the room. </p><p>Sutherland followed with Elisabeth on his hip, passing Marian on the way in. </p><p>“That Elizabeth Sutherland is a machine,” she sighed, dropping into the free recliner.</p><p>“Isn’t she?” Anne said appreciatively, her fiancée still asleep on her chest. “She is all business.</p><p>“Three kids,” Pic shook her head. “I can’t imagine.”</p><p>“Seriously,” Tib agreed, leaning back as Pic straightened and fluffed her hair. </p><p>“Have you all talked about children?” Pic asked Anne.</p><p>“A bit,” Anne admitted, “but for now, I think Tiny is enough.”</p><p>As if on cue, both dogs barreled into the room, clearly banished from the table by Elizabeth. Tib sank her hands into Argus’s wiry fur - he’d always been her favorite, Anne remembered. Tiny hopped into Ann’s lap, rousing her. </p><p>“Hi, baby,” Ann smiled, stroking her dark head. “I missed you.”</p><p>“Oh, I missed you too,” Anne teased. </p><p>“<i>God</i>,” Marian groaned. “We get it. You’re getting married.”</p><p>“We just like each other,” Ann protested. “Is that so wrong?”</p><p>“Not at all,” Aunt Anne patted the top of her head as she passed. “I think Cordingley left us a few things.”</p><p>“It’s disgusting,” Marian teased, nudging Ann’s shoulder. “I’m right behind you.”</p><p>“Keep it up,” Tib laughed, scrambling behind them. </p><p>Pic just shook her head as she followed.</p><p>They both exhaled in relief now that they were finally, finally alone. Anne traced circles with her thumb over Ann’s lower thigh, her fingers curled gently around her calf. Tiny sighed too, curling up in a ball on Ann’s lap. </p><p>“Let’s elope,” Anne teased. “We can go right now.”</p><p>“Pony,” Ann laughed, “no, we can’t. It’s going to be nice.”</p><p>“I guess. I wish all these fools didn’t have to come.”</p><p>“You love them.” Ann kissed the side of her neck. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”</p><p>“Oh, I just might.”</p><p>“No, you wouldn’t,” Ann said easily, “because I wouldn’t, and you’ll do anything I say.”</p><p>“You’re right,” Anne said with a shake of her head.</p><p>“Of course I am.”</p><p>“Are you hungry, darling?”</p><p>“No,”  Ann groaned. “Cat practically force-fed me toast and oatmeal this morning. I might never eat again.”</p><p>“Never? Not,” Anne paused, licking her lips, “anything?”</p><p>“That’s an eating out joke?” Ann looked up at her. “That’s it. Wedding’s off.”</p><p>Ann made to stand up, disturbing Tiny, but Ann caught her fiancée’s knee before she could escape.</p><p>“No, you don’t,” she laughed as the dog hopped to the ground; she pulled Ann in for a deep kiss.</p><p>“Let’s go for a walk,” Ann said softly. </p><p>Anne nodded, and they slipped outside with Tiny in tow. Tiny could now be trusted to roam and come back; Ann had worked very hard with the trainer on that. Plus, she never let Tiny’s tracker get below a 50% charge. They strolled hand-in-hand toward the greenhouse. On the lawn just behind the house, there were workers already setting up the floor and tent for tomorrow. They’d arrive here about eleven, after the ceremony, Anne hoped. The service would take about an hour, and then the family would come straight here. Anne and Ann were going to sneak away for a few minutes and arrive in style. </p><p>“We should practice, you know,” Anne said, her eyes trained on Tiny’s wiggly form. “For tomorrow.”</p><p>“If that’s a come-on, you can forget it. Absolutely no shagging or wanking or anything until tomorrow night.”</p><p>“No, Adney,” Anne drawled, even as her dreams for a steamy greenhouse romp died. “I meant for our kiss.”</p><p>“I don’t think I need to practice kissing you, Pony.”</p><p>Ann slipped into the greenhouse, whistling for Tiny, who scampered right in after her. Anne followed, intensely aroused by her wife’s sharp, authoritative whistle. She wrapped her arms around Ann’s narrow waist and pulled her close. </p><p>“They’re going to take a picture, darling. We should make it a good one.”</p><p>“Alright,” Ann relented. “What do you think? Like this?”</p><p>She draped her arms around Anne’s neck.</p><p>“I do love it, but about -” she slid Ann’s hands up to her face, then laid her own hands flat against Ann’s lower back, “something like this?”</p><p>“No,” Ann said thoughtfully, her thumbs stroking gently against Anne’s face. “I want to see your face. In the picture.”</p><p>“What about this?”</p><p>Anne slid her fiancée’s hands down to the front of her shirt; Ann curled her hands in the front of Anne’s jumper. Anne slid her hands around to her wife’s hips, just below her narrow waist. Their hips pressed together gently; their chests rose and fell in unison.</p><p>“This is good,” Ann nodded. “Really good.”</p><p>Anne kissed her softly.</p><p>“Like that?”</p><p>“Again.”</p><p>Grinning, Anne dipped her head to kiss her again, just as softly.</p><p>“I’ll have heels on though. We might be about the same height. Almost.”</p><p>“Hot,” she husked, leaning down to kiss Ann again, this time a bit deeper, hungrier. Perhaps, with a little convincing, that just-right slide of their lips and the press of her tongue, Ann would - </p><p>“Pony, no,” Ann pulled away. “Not like that.”</p><p>“What about this?”</p><p>Anne dipped her fiancée back, swallowing her giggles as she pressed their lips together. </p><p>“Anne!” She gasped as they straightened. “That’s - hold on, let me try it again.” She wrapped her left arm around Anne’s shoulders, then curled her right hand into the front of her jumper. “You are wearing a suit, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Yes,” Anne drawled.</p><p>“So I’ll just hold onto the lapel, you know, so I don’t topple over.”</p><p>“I’ve got you,” Anne purred, curling her right arm around Ann’s waist, setting her left hand easily on her hip. “Ready?”</p><p>Ann nodded, and Anne leaned her back, supporting her easily and grinning above her for just a moment before bringing their lips together. She could feel Ann wobble beneath her. </p><p>“Kick this leg up,” she said gently, squeezing Ann’s right hip. Ann complied, allowing Anne to fit her own leg neatly between Ann’s. “Better for balance, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ann breathed, her eyes wide. </p><p>Anne kissed her again, then brought her to her feet. </p><p>“Will your dress allow that? Why don’t you let me see it first?”</p><p>“No,” Ann giggled. “It’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Think we’ve got it? Or shall we try again?”</p><p>Ann shook her head and pulled her close. They spent the next hour kissing over and over again, a bit like teenagers unable to break apart. Ann’s bright laughter filled the small, warm hut, and Anne wondered if they’d be missed. Perhaps they could live out here, safely ensconced in the foliage and each other’s arms. Finally, Ann pulled away, biting her swollen bottom lip; she smoothed her hands through Anne’s hair, where she’d just been grasping and tangling. </p><p>“We should go back,” she said softly.</p><p>“I guess,” Anne sighed. “Tib has probably taught Mary loads of swear words by now.”</p><p>They walked back with their hands clasped, laughing and watching Tiny streak across the grass. She raced straight to the spot where Tib, like Gulliver, was laid out flat on her back, a trio of small humans crawling over her. Father lounged in one of the chairs nearby, the afternoon turning into an unseasonably warm one. Elizabeth and Sutherland occupied two more chairs, leaving only one empty. Being a gentleman, Anne offered it to her fiancée. At that very moment, Pic appeared, pausing with an unsure expression. Laughing, Ann pushed Anne to the ground and tumbled down next to her. </p><p>“What’s this?” Anne sputtered, wrenching a toy truck from under her lower back. </p><p>“Be a good host, Pony,” Ann hissed, taking Mary into her lap. “Have you had a good time today?”</p><p>“Yes,” the little girl said firmly. </p><p>“Do you like Aunty Walker’s new house?”</p><p>“It’s too dark,” Sackville pronounced from his foam sword fight with Tib, who was still completely laid down. “You need more windows.”</p><p>“I don’t know about that,” Anne said, surprised by the acute sensation of jealousy and defensiveness. Why was Sacvkille playing with Tib? Why hadn’t he brought <i>Anne</i> a foam sword? And why didn’t he like Shibden? “We have got those cool lions.”</p><p>“I guess,” Sackville shrugged, then poked his sword into Tib’s belly. “I got you!”</p><p>“I’m dead,” Tib announced dramatically, clutching her gut. “I’m dead. Tell my wife - I love her!”</p><p>Anne scoffed and rolled her eyes, soothing her bruised ego with the smattering of attention from little Elisabeth, who’d toddled over to her. She was a sweet thing, but Anne couldn’t help feeling pangs of envy as she watched Sackville laugh at his new “Aunty Norcliffe.”</p><p>“I think I’m dead now,” Tib groaned as she rose clumsily to her feet. “Here,” she passed the sword to Anne, “defend my honor.”</p><p>Sackville raced to her, already forgetting Tib and her foolish, lazy style of fighting. Anne sparred with him playfully, their foam swords thwacking together over and over; Elisabeth sat against her thigh, and Anne rubbed her back. It was nice, Anne thought, being surrounded by children like this. Faintly, she could hear Pic whispering lowly to Tib, Sutherland speaking animatedly with Father, Ann chatting seriously with Mary. It was definitely nice. </p><p>“What’s this about a wife I hear? Am I -”</p><p>“Exactly! If he’s serious about the cup, he should have subbed your man in, and -”</p><p>“Oh, yes, this is a very good dolly, she -”</p><p>Their conversations mixed and mingled in Anne’s ears, a broad grin spreading across her face as Tiny rolled onto her back in the ‘V’ of Anne’s legs. Sackville dropped his sword and went about rubbing her belly. </p><p>“We should visit more often,” Elizabeth said behind her. “Free babysitting.”</p><p>“That would be lovely,” Anne answered easily, passing a fussing Elisabeth to her mother. “We’re so glad to have you.”</p><p>“Nap time,” Elizabeth called crisply, and her children flocked to her. Anne wondered how in the world she did it. “We’ll go back to Crow Nest, yeah?” </p><p>Sutherland stood with a nod, and the family disappeared into the house. Anne flopped back into the grass, and Ann scooted next to her, laying a flat hand on her belly. Staring up at the sky, in the perfectly mixed warm and cool in the air, with her extended family all around - Anne sighed in contentment. </p><p>“Sweet kids,” Pic offered, pushing Tib away with a laugh. “I feel a bit - I appreciate you letting me be a part of this.”</p><p>“Of course,” Ann said. “We love having you here.”</p><p>“Now, you, Miss Norcliffe,” Father joked, “jury’s still out.”</p><p>“Fair enough,” Tib laughed. Even from here, Anne could see her hand trace around Pic’s ankle. Shameless. “I think Frankie and I - well, are you tired, babe?”</p><p>“You know,” Pic said thoughtfully, “I am. I’m pretty, uh, tired.”</p><p>They hurried into the house together, and Anne groaned. </p><p>“They’re so annoying.”</p><p>“We’re going to have to burn those sheets,” Ann laughed. “I’m going to find a snack.” </p><p>She rose and went inside, leaving Anne with her father. Grunting, Anne sat up and turned to him.</p><p>“I think it’s really nice. What you’re doing with Ann. I appreciate it. Good form, Captain.”</p><p>“Well, I -” Anne could see her straight-laced father flush, “I just thought - you know, she wouldn’t want to be alone.”</p><p>“It’s very sweet,” she said sincerely.</p><p>“I hope you don’t - would you rather I go with you?” </p><p>“No,” Anne chuckled, “no, no, this is perfect. You and Ann really get on, and, honestly? I think Aunt might fight you.”</p><p>They laughed and went inside; Anne wrapped an arm around her father’s shoulders, with his around her waist. She exhaled as they went inside. As vulgar and ridiculous and annoying as her family was, she loved them. Even her gruff, militaristic father. Even her opinionated, cane-toting aunt who could control her with a single look. Even her annoying sister and her lecherous friend and her in-laws with their rapidly expanding brood. And especially, above all else, her beautiful, kind, generous soon-to-be wife.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!!</p><p>With their private ceremony, I’m trying to blend some of the traditional aspects (the church, the Sacrament) with what works for them/us (only a handful of witnesses, skipping the actual blessing of the wine and bread - which my parents did!). I’m torn between giving them a moment before the ceremony to see each other privately before the ceremony or if they should see each other for the first time in that moment. What do you think?</p><p>Also, the moment with Jeremy (thanks Beth for that idea!) is a bit rushed, but I did want to include it. I should’ve written it earlier, butttt here we are. And the rehearsal is rushed because this part (I feel) is more about the rough structure and the interaction between the extended family. Shoutout to Naramis for the idea about Tib and kids - I think Tib is a big kid herself, unfazed by their intrusive questions and totally down to roll around in the grass. </p><p>Look, it’s an unseasonably warm March in this story. They’re sitting outside. Climate change is real, and it’s helping my story. Please recycle. Okay. </p><p>Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. The Night Before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“No, no, no,” Elizabeth scolded as she snatched Ann’s phone from her hands. “Absolutely none of this.”</p><p>“What?” Ann whined, dropping her empty hands to the sheets.</p><p>They were in the TV room, setting up for an evening of their favorite movies, and Ann was busy trying not to think about the time Anne had shagged her on this very couch. Or that stretch of carpet. No, she was not going to think about that at all.</p><p>“Absolutley no cell phones tonight, missy.”</p><p>Elizabeth sat down next to her just as Catherine came in with the popcorn. She plopped down heavily on the other side of Ann. </p><p>“What are we mad at Ann for?”</p><p>“We’re not mad about anything,” Elizabeth corrected; “I’m just not going to let her sit here and text Dr. Lister all night.” </p><p>“Oh, ew, yeah. No contact,” Catherine agreed.</p><p>“I just wanted to tell her goodnight!” Ann protested, fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt. “I just wanted her to know I was thinking about her.”</p><p>“I’m sure she knows,” Elizabeth soothed, patting her arm and starting the movie. </p><p> </p><p>At Shibden, Anne was definitely thinking about her. She’d spread out her old journals on the floor of their bedroom; she was going to take herself down the rocky path of memory lane. After a full day with the family (particularly Tib’s insistence on being the loudest person in the room, perhaps in history), Anne was ready for a quiet night to herself. She’d put her phone in the nightstand, resisting the urge to text her fiancée. </p><p>It was strange, she thought, how much time she spent pouring herself into these pages just to close them back up again. Sometimes she went back for reference, but usually, once she wrote something down, it was gone from her mind. Tonight, she was going to retrace her steps. </p><p>Maybe it was machoism or egomania or an intoxicating combination of the two, but Anne felt very little embarassment to reread her writing. These had been her feelings, at the time, and she tried not to admonish her past self. She cracked open the volume from last March, her first memories of Ann. She was startled to see her own hand contemplating marriage after that first day. Had she really been so entranced? Looking back, Anne supposed she had. That first night, hadn’t she incurred a cross with Ann’s gentle smile behind her eyelids? Her face flushed at the memory; it certainly worked out that Ann felt the same way - otherwise, that might be kind of creepy. </p><p>She flipped forward, reminiscing about moving Ann into Shibden, those blissful days when they were cooped up together, no choice but to fall deeper and deeper in love. And yet, as she scanned the entries for the first few days, she was reminded that they’d had that row. Mini-row. That tiny argument about the furniture. Anne reached for an older volume, eighteen years ago. </p><p>She found it with surprising ease, the entry where she reveled in Mariana buying this bedroom full of furniture for her. She wasn’t married then, and Anne had been certain - absolutely, positively, no-doubt-about-it certain - that Mariana would move in soon. It wasn’t long after that that everything spiraled out of control. </p><p>She ran her fingers over the page, the deep wells of the letters where she’d been unable to control her excitement. How had it all gone so wrong? The eagerness in her crypthand was heartbreaking. Her poor, younger self. She could barely think about it. Her gut twisted - how had the woman who wrote these words become so jaded? Where had she lost her way? At what point did she close herself off from any chance at future happiness and resigned herself to hurried moments with another man’s wife?</p><p>She reached for another volume. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you crying?” Elizabeth asked Catherine, leaning over Ann for the popcorn. “Seriously, Cat, you’ve seen this, like, a million times.”</p><p>“There - was - room - on - the - door,” she hiccuped in response. </p><p>“Not this again,” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Another one?”</p><p>“I’m actually pretty tired,” Ann said. “Will you be mad if I just go to bed?”</p><p>“Of course not,” Elizabeth patted her shoulder, “but I am keeping your phone.”</p><p>Ann scoffed, but she left the room without protest. It was for the best, she knew, that Elizabeth keep her phone. Otherwise she’d be tempted to call Anne. Text her. Even just read back their old text threads, which were actually incredibly boring - always “coming home” and “we’re in the hut” and pictures of Tiny and Ann’s chest and Anne’s hand shoved into her boxers. Well, perhaps not so boring after all. </p><p>She went about her nightly routine, but somehow it wasn’t as much fun without Anne there to watch her. She missed her making sardonic comments about Ann’s lotions, her dark eyes traveling over her body, her strong arms scooping her up when Ann finally granted permission. This immense bed was entirely too big without Anne in it; the soft pillow couldn’’t even compare to the comfort of falling asleep on Anne’s broad shoulder. </p><p>Ann looked around the room, remembering every surface Anne had pressed her into, every kiss and every touch they’d shared in this room, every breathless cry swallowed by these walls. Her wedding dress hung in the doorway to the closet, its hanger hooked over the top of the door frame; shrouded in the black garment bag, it reminded Ann of that evening Anne hand hung her suits in the very same spot. </p><p>There had been the call from Mariana that morning, then Anne gone to the garden all afternoon. Ann smiled at the memory of marching up here to shag some sense into her, only to be diverted by Anne’s called with her aunt. How far she’d come, Ann thought with a hint of pride; Aunt Anne was now <i>her</i> aunt too. A surrogate mother to both of them. </p><p>Of course, this made her think of Anne’s proposal. How shocking it was to see her in that crisply white shirt. The desire Ann had felt for her on the back deck, only to be diverted by a stroll in the garden. The sincerity and vulnerability in Anne’s eyes as she poured her heart out, one knee in the dirt, that onyx ring in her hands. Ann twisted the ring on her finger, wondering if she’d feel different tomorrow, with her wedding band bracketing this one. </p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Anne had traced her descent into madness, the whole sorry, sordid history with Mariana, and she was now dropping tears onto the Three Steps entry. Not for herself, not anymore. She cried for the woman she’d been then, the one who was so full of love and life that she’d bounded up the stairs to see her woman. The one who’d been cowed into hiding by the person who was supposed to love her more than anyone else. The one who’d built up impenetrable walls to protect herself, walls that only grew more claustrophobic with every dalliance, one-night stand, and rejection. She wasn’t enough for anyone, least of all herself. </p><p>She thought, now, about what Ann would do in that situation. If Anne had vaulted herself over three steps to join her friends for brunch. Instantly, Anne knew she would smile. Ann would smile and kiss her, perhaps admonish her for walking so far and being so sweaty, but, underneath, she would be pleased. She would drop her hand to Anne’s knee under the table. Push her sweat-slick hair back from her face. Push her into the loo and slip her delicate fingers between Anne’s legs, because she could never get enough of her Pony. </p><p>Anne leaned back against the footboard of their bed with a contented smile. She never knew what Mariana would do next, could never predict her moods or her desires or her words. WIth Ann, she knew exactly what she’d say. Not in a boring way. In a I-know-you-as-well-as-I-know-myself way. Certainly, there were moments when Ann surprised her; she did it all the time, really. At the same time, Anne knew her inside and out. She smiled to herself at the lewd comment she would’ve made if Ann were there. The way Ann would laugh and nudge her playfully. The way that would quickly turn into wrestling and colliding bodies and hungry lips and that sweet relief that only Ann could give her. </p><p>Could only Ann give it to her? She wondered. She flipped through an old journal, looking for the crypthand notation for kisses. How did her past descriptions of her sexual exploits compare with the way she wrote about Ann?</p><p> </p><p>“I’m coming in,” Elizabeth announced.</p><p>Without another word, Ann’s older sister snuck into the room and laid in bed next to her. Ann leaned into her, resting her head on her sister’s sloping shoulder. She breathed deeply, grounding herself in the comfort and reassurance of the only family member who had always been there for her. </p><p> </p><p>There was an ethereal, reverent quality to her entries about Ann. With Tib it was tinged with annoyance and frustration, both at Tib and at herself. With Mariana, she wrote exceedingly about her emotions and only sparingly about the act itself; it broke her heart to see her own writing lauding Mariana’s crumbs, the tiny moments that she praised as the greatest expression of romantic love. With Maria, it was almost clinical, duration and location and positions; her analytical brain could at least appreciate this attention to detail, particularly her growth in wearing the strap. Then, of course, peppered throughout were the faceless girls, the women she’d delivered into oblivion, only to spend the night on her own anyway. How many entries started with incurring a cross, disappointment quickly filling her chest once the desire had been sated? </p><p>She flipped this volume closed with a sigh. How long had she spent thinking about sex? It had been a driving factor in her life, this desire to please and be pleased. At times, it felt like an addiction. A compulsion. She craved Mariana’s touch for years; she’d been the best, out of all of them. The one who could truly unravel Anne. The rest were fine, some were even good - there were moments with Maria that were great, even. But none could compare to Mariana. </p><p>Until Ann. </p><p>Until Ann, she thought again, nodding her head and reaching for her journal from a year ago. With Ann, that first few times, Anne could see her confusion in black and white. Her pen had barely left an impression as it flew across the page with speed. In the past, Anne had dug her pen into the paper; she was angry and forceful and harsh. With Ann? She was as light as air. Her words, in places, were barely legible, a combination of writing too quickly and an inability to understand her own emotions. </p><p>What had the difference been? Why did Ann captivate her so much? And how? Anne poured over the entries from their quarantine. Had there been a specific moment? Was there something she could point to in particular?</p><p> </p><p>“Were you scared?” Ann asked softly, her hand clasped in her sister’s, her eyes trained on Elizabeth’s simple wedding band and tasteful diamond. “Before you got married?”</p><p>“A little. George and I hadn’t lived together, not properly. He’s a little - you know. I just wondered if we’d get along.”</p><p>“And do you?”</p><p>“Of course.” Elizabeth stroked her hair comfortingly. “It’s about building your life together, right? It’s about trusting each other and talking and trying to understand. Your partner has to come first, right? Not work or the family or, you know, anything like that. When you keep your priorities straight, it’s actually pretty easy.”</p><p>“Do you still feel that way? Even with the kids?”</p><p>“Well, not exactly,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully. “He still - I mean, I believe that having a strong partnership is key for our family, so in that way, you know, our relationship is a priority. At the same time, kids rely on you so entirely, and they don’t piss you off nearly as much,” she chuckled. “It’s all about balance.”</p><p>“What about for your wedding? Were you nervous?”</p><p>“Not really. I mean, it was so rushed. The courthouse and all that. It wasn’t a big deal. A formality.”</p><p>“I’m nervous,” Ann said softly. </p><p>“That’s okay. What’s making you nervous?”</p><p>“Who knows?” Ann chuckled helplessly.</p><p>“List them.”</p><p>This was a time-honored tradition with them. When Ann got worked up, Elizabeth could always talk her down by getting her to list her worries and debunking each one. On a handful of occasions Ann had been able to return the favor. </p><p>“My dress won’t fit.”</p><p>“You tried it on tonight. You can try it on again if you want.”</p><p>Ann shook her head as that fear dissipated. </p><p>“I’ll trip.”</p><p>“Captain Lister will be right there.”</p><p>“I’ll say the words wrong.”</p><p>“You don’t have that many words to say. He’ll tell you everything you need to do.”</p><p>“Marian will forget the rings.”</p><p>“I don’t know Marian very well, but from what I can tell, she’s very capable. Besides, don’t you think Anne will be breathing down her neck all morning? The rings will be there.”</p><p>“I’ll choke on the Sacrament.”</p><p>“Ann!” Her sister laughed in exasperation. “I’m not so religious as you, but - well, I don’t think Jesus is going to let you choke. Alright? That’s just - that’s not going to happen.”</p><p>Ann smiled and nodded into her sister’s shoulder. These fears weren’t deep, and Liz had easily knocked them down. Her actual anxiety was almost too embarrassing to say aloud. She picked at her fingernail, but Elizabeth caught her hand. </p><p>“What?” Elizabeth demanded. </p><p>“Anne won’t want me,” she whispered, barely able to say the words that hung so heavily in her heart. “What if she decides against it?”</p><p>“Ann! Ann. Look at me.” Ann forced herself to turn and look into her sister’s serious eyes. “The way that Anne Lister looks at you? And speaks to you and touches you and speaks <i>about</i> you? There is no way on earth that she would decide against it. Any of us would be lucky to have a partner who cares about them as much as Anne does about you. You must know that.”</p><p>“I do. I just - I don’t know. I worry.”</p><p>“That’s okay. That’s natural, and that happens. But,” she held up Ann’s phone, the screen of which showed a picture of Anne kissing Ann on the cheek, her eyes closed while Ann grinned broadly, “you know that she loves you. You know that.”</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>“Okay.” Elizabeth smiled encouragingly. “You two are very sweet together. It’s almost annoying.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh <i>God</i>,” Marian groaned, flinging Anne’s door open and flopping onto the bed. “Tib and Pic are <i>animals</i>. Can you go say something?”</p><p>“No,” Anne said tersely, flipping her journal closed. “Why are you in here?”</p><p>“As you may recall,” Marian flipped forward on the bed, lying on her belly and propping her head up on her arms at the foot of the bed, “my room is next to the guest room. It’s worse than when you and Ann are here.”</p><p>“Marian!” Anne huffed in annoyance. “I’m trying to do a bit of reflection here.”</p><p>“You are, like, so ridiculous. Rereading your own diaries. Jesus.”</p><p>“I’m trying to have a moment here.” Anne still hoped her sister would leave, but she could see that wasn’t happening. She started to stack up her journals again. “I guess I won’t.”</p><p>“I guess you won’t.” Marian kicked her feet in the air; her voice took on a sing-songy tone. “Are you nervous?”</p><p>“No,” Anne lied, returning the first armful of journals to their shelf.</p><p>“You are,” Marian pressed. “What do you think Ann’s dress looks like?”</p><p>“Haven’t you seen it?” Anne asked, stowing the next load of journals.</p><p>“Yes,” her sister drawled, “but what do <i>you</i> think?”</p><p>“Well,” Anne sighed, “I think it’s got to be floor-length. White. She said something about wearing heels and having sleeves, so I - I don’t know. Maybe something like Kate Middleton? Lots of lace?”</p><p>Marian just shrugged, and Anne clicked her tongue. </p><p>“Whatever. You’re no help. Earplugs are in the nightstand.”</p><p>She heard Marian rustling around, and she finished  putting her journals away. Anne turned around sharply at her sister’s sharp cry.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Anne!” Marian whined. “What is this? This is - ew!”</p><p>“What?” Anne crossed the room, a million filthy things racing through her mind; what could Marian had stumbled on? “What is it?”</p><p>“Your phone background,” Marian said with disgust. “I think I’m going to be sick.”</p><p>She held up Anne’s phone, which displayed a picture of Ann on the lockscreen. Ann was drawing, her forehead creased slightly in concentration, her hand slightly out of focus as it moved across the sketch pad in her lap; in the foreground, Anne’s long legs tangled with Ann’s. Anne loved this photo, and she found herself checking her phone more often just to look at it. </p><p>“Give me that.” Anne snatched her phone back, reached into the drawer, and passed her sister the package of earplugs. “Here. Now leave me alone.”</p><p>“You really love her, huh?” Marian sat back on the bed, legs crisscrossed in front of her. </p><p>“Obviously,” Anne shot back, “why do you think I’m marrying her?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” her sister shrugged, “good sex?”</p><p>“Marian.”</p><p>“Well! I mean - when did you - like, at what point did you decide to - you know, that Ann was worth - God, this is so embarrassing.”</p><p>“What?” Anne leaned against the wall, crossing her arms in front of her; this was an interesting look on her sister - asking Anne for help. She tried not to gloat. “Spit it out.”</p><p>“When did you know that she was worth giving everything up for?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Like, what made Ann make you want to give up your freedom?”</p><p>“Oh, uh,” Anne’s mind raced; this was actually the question she’d been asking herself, “I think, well, first of all, I’d already sort of given it up, you know? Since we were quarantined.”</p><p>“Alright, if you’re not going to -”</p><p>“No, no, listen. I - I kind of just - I think I realized I would rather be with her than be by myself. You know? There was this day where, even when I was working, I just wanted to sit next to her. You know? Not even - um, not even doing anything together. Just - I just preferred being around her to being alone.”</p><p>“How do you -” Marian looked down, and Anne felt her embarrassment  palpably; they’d never really spoken about their love lives like this. “How do you know when - when did you realize that she felt the same way?”</p><p>“Well, uh, Ann is pretty easy to read,” Anne chuckled. “It’s - I mean, she - well, there was this night, okay, when I thought I’d overstepped. You know how I am, just shooting off at the mouth all the time. I was pretty sure I’d bored her to death, and she was sick of me. I’d - look, we’re adults - I was sleeping in her bed every night, okay? Then this night, when I thought she was tired of me, I went to the guest room to sleep, and - well, I kind of couldn’t stand it. I went back to sleep next to her, but I - basically she told me exactly what you’re asking. That’s when I knew for sure.”</p><p>Marian nodded, looking down at her lap. Anne took a step forward, squatting  next to the end of the bed. </p><p>“It’ll happen for you, Marian. As long as you keep taking risks and - you know, and trying. It’ll happen.”</p><p>“Of course,” Marian looked up, her smile erasing all traces of vulnerability from her face. “Thanks.”</p><p>“Sure.” Anne stood. “Now get out of here so I can sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your house is so quiet!” Catherine yelled as she flung the door open.</p><p>“It won’t be if you wake the kids,” Elizabeth snapped. “Get in here and keep your voice down. Good Lord.”</p><p>“Sorry.” Catherine slipped into bed on Ann’s other side. “I’m just used to the city, sirens and cars passing and neighbors. What are we talking about?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Elizabeth said firmly. “We’re going to bed.”</p><p>Catherine snuggled into Ann’s side, and for a moment there was silence. Ann breathed deeply, relishing the safety of being surrounded by her sister and her best friend. This was certainly one way to go to bed without Anne. She’d almost fallen asleep when Catherine spoke again.</p><p>“Where are you spending the night tomorrow?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Where are you and Anne going to smash tomorrow night?”</p><p>“Catherine,” Elizabeth warned. </p><p>“It’s just a question! You must be going somewhere special.”</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know,” Ann said. “Anne made all the arrangements.”</p><p>“Pound town,” Catherine teased.</p><p>“Cat!” Ann protested. “Stop!”</p><p>“Seriously, Catherine. Not appropriate.”</p><p>“You two are no fun,” she grumbled, and the room was swallowed by silence again. </p><p>At least, until Elizabeth spoke a few minutes later. </p><p>“Seriously, though, you’re not staying at Shibden are you?”</p><p>“Liz!”</p><p>“I just - gosh, that doesn’t seem romantic at all.”</p><p>“Right?” Catherine agreed. “What a let-down that would be.”</p><p>“I don’t <i>know</i>,” Ann reminded them. </p><p>“You’re going to get it on though, aren’t you?” Catherine asked. </p><p>“Stop!” Ann whined. </p><p>Silence once again, and Ann almost fell asleep. At least, until Elizabeth spoke again. </p><p>“Is she, like, really good in bed?”</p><p>“Liz!”</p><p>“I bet she totally is,” Cat agreed. “Like, no doubt.”</p><p>“Right?”</p><p>Giggling, Ann shimmied against the annoying, ridiculous, sweet women surrounding her. They protested, and soon they were all nudging and laughing together. When they finally stilled, Ann felt perfectly calm. Her worries faded away as she drifted to sleep, ensconced by her two closest friends, the women who loved her most in the world. </p><p> </p><p>Not quite <i>the</i> most. Just a few miles away, Anne Lister climbed out of bed and padded into the closet. She rummaged around for a few moments, then returned to bed. When she fell asleep, she was clutching a pink t-shirt Ann had worn a few days earlier, her face buried in the soft fabric, her lungs full of Ann’s scent, her scarred heart finally, finally, ready to heal.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!!</p><p>I’ve never written both perspectives at once, so this was a bit of a stretch for me. Which is always fun! Lots of contributions from all of you all helped me write this chapter, and I really, really appreciate it! That’s the coolest part of this story - stealing y’all’s ideas and incorporating them 😂</p><p>I feel like the build-up to the wedding (night) is excruciating, but I’m trying to do it right. The anticipation is hopefully... good? I want to take my time. </p><p>Thank you!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Actual, Proper Wife</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Anne adjusted herself in the mirror, twisting slowly and assessing her reflection. She’d agreed to get dressed at Shibden, because there was only one bridal suite at the church. It would be simple enough for her to hop in the car and drive into York. She tried not to think about Ann getting dressed right now. They needed to leave in about fifteen minutes. Her stomach was in knots as she buttoned up her waistcoat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I borrow some socks?” Tib burst into the room, her cravat in her hand, her bare feet slapping against the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Anne said absently, pointing to the drawer behind her. “There.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up with you?” Tib hopped around on one foot, tugging her socks on. “You look angry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not angry,” Anne snapped, straightening her waistcoat. “I’m nervous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s dumb. Don’t be nervous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne rolled her eyes and started to put her cufflinks on, which only made her miss Ann more. She understood the tradition, but she would feel a lot better with a certain blonde head bent before her right now, nimble fingers on her wrist and flowery perfume tickling her nose. The telltale thump of a cane broke into her contemplations and Tib’s mindless chatter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you got it all?” Aunt Anne asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got what?” Anne barely turned over her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something old, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got you,” Anne teased gently, kissing her aunt on the forehead before dropping onto the small bench next to their rack of shoes. “And Father’s cufflinks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something new,” Aunt Anne prompted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These bloody shoes you made me buy. Brand new.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Borrowed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Tib, give me something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not giving you anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re wearing my socks!” Anne cried in exasperation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tib hummed, conceding the point. She reached in her pocket and held out a handkerchief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here. My father always said a gentleman should carry a handkerchief, and I think today you’re going to need one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I resent the implication,” Anne sighed, noting the elegant embroidery of Tib’s initials on the corner as she tucked the fabric into her trouser pocket, “but thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s blue? Do you have something blue?” Aunt Anne asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The suit is blue” Anne said slowly, rising and taking her royal blue coat from the hanger. “Are we ready to go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne insisted on driving to the church; Aunt Anne sat in the passenger seat, with Tib and Pic in the back. Thomas was going to pick up Marian and Captain Lister and deliver them to the church; Anne was already anxious about them arriving late, and she started tapping her fingers against the steering wheel impatiently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a lovely day for it,” Pic offered. “The tent looks really nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does,” Aunt Anne agreed. “It’s going to be a great day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne just hummed, unable to accept these olive branches. Dozens of terrible scenarios raced in her mind. What if Ann’s back went out? What if Thomas got in a wreck on the way to the church? What if the priest didn’t show? What if it started to rain? What if Ann came to her senses? She worried she might be sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tib, Frances, you go inside,” Aunt Anne said as they pulled into the parking lot. “I’m going to speak to Anne for a moment, hmmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The couple shuffled out of the car without complaint, and Anne watched them disappear into the church. Her leg bounced, and her knuckles had turned white as she gripped the steering wheel. A wrinkled hand came to rest gently on her forearm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen. I know you don’t want to talk about your feelings, but I want to say something. I am so proud of you. Do you know that? I am. I am so proud of the woman you’ve become and of the life that you’ve made. I love you, Ansty, do you hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne just nodded, her face scrunched in concentration as she fought back tears. Aunt Anne squeezed her arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, come on, let’s get you married.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pic was right - it was a lovely day. Warm and sunny, a perfect spring day. The church was almost silent, save for Mary and Sackville’s quiet chattering with their father in the front row. Anne breathed a sigh of relief. At least Ann was here. She must be, right? If the Sutherlands were here, then, surely, Ann would be in the bridal suite. It wouldn’t hurt to check. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silently, Anne slipped out the side door toward the parish hall. There was a bathroom in this building, wasn’t there? That would be her reasoning, if she were caught. Perfectly innocent. All the same, she took care to tread lightly as she passed the toilets, the bulletin boards advertising events, the empty offices. The door to the bridal suite was cracked. Anne advanced like a panther, stalking forward so that her new shoes fell soundless on the tile. Faintly, she could hear voices on the other side of the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not too low?” Ann asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne’s mind filled with a thousand filthy images  - what was too low? She prayed to God it <em>was</em> too low. More than forty-eight hours without seeing her fiancée naked was starting to take its toll. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s great,” Elizabeth answered. “You look beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne’s heart soared - of course she looked beautiful. Ann always looked beautiful. She wasn’t sure she could handle how beautiful Ann was doing to look today. She stepped forward, about to announce herself through the door, when Catherine Rawson’s sharp voice came from behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lister! What the hell are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne spun around, instantly raising her arms in surrender. Catherine looked nice, she noted, in her pale pink dress and pumps, her hair falling gracefully around her shoulders. She was <em>dressed</em> nice, Anne corrected herself; she actually looked pretty pissed off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just - uh, looking for the loo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that Anne Lister?” Elizabeth called sternly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne swallowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out of here!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann’s bright giggles filled her ears and her heart; Anne exhaled for the first time in what felt like eons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going; I’m going. Can I -” Anne turned to speak to the door. “I’ll see you soon, darling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be right there, Pony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne nodded to the chipped paint, as if Ann could see her. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she turned around to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barf,” Catherine said affectionately. “See you soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne strode back into the church, where she was quickly assaulted by Aunt Anne’s cane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where.” She struck Anne’s ankles. “Were.” The backs of her knees. “You!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I went to the toilet! Good Lord.” Anne bent down to brush off her trousers. “I am allowed to use the facilities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not without permission,” Aunt Anne said sharply. “And not again!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne sighed, shaking her head as Thomas, Marian, and Captain Lister arrived. Marian wore a blue dress that matched Anne’s and Tib’s coats; Anne could even admit that Thomas had cleaned up well in his grey suit. Captain Lister had squeezed himself into his military dress, which he favored on formal occasions out of simplicity’s sake. The family hovered uneasily in the back of the church. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here we are!” Tib called, breaking the silence and rushing up behind Anne. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was disheveled, her hair a mess and her cravat torn. As was Pic, Anne noted, who held tightly to her hand. Pic wore a flowing white blouse, tucked into form-fitting green trousers, with flat brown brogues; her blouse was nice, but it was so sheer that Anne could see her dark bra underneath. She turned away, shaking her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we late?” Pic asked anxiously, tucking her shirt back into her trousers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right on time,” Anne said flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas and Pic seemed to take their cue and strode down to the front of the church. Father Mason appeared; Anne noted that his hands were still wet and his fingernails clean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great, I just spoke to your beautiful bride, and she is making her way. Let’s get started.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The organ began, and Anne’s stomach started to churn in earnest. She felt more nervous than perhaps she ever had in her life. Tib and Marian made their way up the aisle, and Anne suddenly realized she hadn’t even asked after the rings. Sweat pooled under her arms. She felt Aunt Anne straighten her hair around her shoulders and run a reassuring hand down her back. Captain Lister clapped her on the shoulder, and Aunt Anne took her arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The slow walk down the aisle was like being in another dimension. She was passing between stages, between forms. At the back of the church, she’d been Anne Lister, Ph.D., hopeful fiancée. When she returned, she’d be Anne Lister, Ph.D., happily married woman. Here in the middle? She was nothing. Nobody. An amorphous blob in a morning suit. Limitless potential - her future happiness, ensconced in a white dress, stood somewhere behind her. Anne had to force herself to walk slowly enough to match her aunt’s gait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took this moment, this time-between-time, to admire the older woman. In her mauve dress and carefully coiffed chignon. Her arm looped easily through Anne’s, her pale eyes looking up at her occasionally as they walked. The first person to hold her as a baby, Anne had been told. Walking her down the aisle. The closest thing to a proper mother she’d ever had. The only person, at times, who seemed to care about Anne’s emotions and fears and struggles. Anne felt a sudden surge of love for her as she kissed her aunt’s cheek and took her spot next to Marian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rings?” She hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marian!” Anne spun around to find her sister grinning broadly and holding the two bands between her index finger and thumb. “Not funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She faced forward again, her heartbeat racing in her ears as Elizabeth and Catherine made their way to the altar. They wore similarly cut dresses, though Elizabeth’s was a bit longer, the waist a bit higher to accommodate her growing belly. They carried white roses and seemed to be walking incredibly quickly. Anne almost wished they’d slow down, that she could live in this before-time, in the moment when she hadn’t seen Ann yet. On the other hand, of course, she felt certain she was about to burst out of her cravat in anticipation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music changed, and there she was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann Walker, stunning in white. The most beautiful goddess Anne had ever seen. Why didn’t Ann live in a white dress? She should always be sheathed in innocence and glory as she currently was. Her hair had been pulled back into a careful bun at the back of her head; her pale face radiant beneath her thin veil as she smiled her way to the altar. Her dress was - God, Anne could barely take it in. There were these silver things on her shoulders - Anne never knew the right words for these things - and the gown fit closely to her chest and flared away from her legs. Flowing white fabric swung around her arms, which peeked out to hold a bouquet of pale pink roses. She walked slowly, carefully, her eyes trained on Anne, who barely noticed her gruff father next to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just them, the two of them, in the entire world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Ann reached the head of the aisle, Anne was fully crying. Not in her chest, not affecting her breathing, just streams of tears running down her smiling face. She bit her lip, fiddling with Tib’s handkerchief and hurriedly wiping her eyes. Captain Lister patted Ann’s hand, then stepped aside to sink down into the pew with Sutherland. Ann stepped forward, her grin so broad and her eyes so wide - Anne thought her heart might burst out of its chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she turned. Ann did. Passed her flowers to Elizabeth behind her. Anne saw it - the entire expanse of Ann’s back - her troublesome, fickle, intensely arousing back. Emotions flooded her body - arousal, pride, love, gratitude, disbelief. There was no way this was real. This could not be her real life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Father Mason started to speak, but Anne could only focus on her bride, shrouded under a thin layer of translucent lace. Ann took her hand, and Anne’s heart instantly slowed. The anxiety and fear of the past two days - of the past forty years - melted away. Ann was here. At the altar. With her. Staring into her eyes and smiling and reaching out to straighten her cravat. The tears fell faster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Into this holy union,” Father Mason said, bringing her back to the present, “Anne Lister and Ann Walker now come to be joined. If any of you can show just cause why they may not lawfully be married, speak now; or else forever hold your peace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne held her breath, trying desperately not to laugh as Ann raised her eyebrows and playfully flicked her eyes back and forth, as if waiting for an interruption. None came. Ann squeezed her hand as the priest continued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I require and charge you both, here in the presence of God, that if either of you know any reason why you may not be united in marriage lawfully, and in accordance with God's Word, you do now confess it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne shrugged, and Ann giggled. They shook their heads to Father Mason, who nodded appreciatively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anne, will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment - time stood still. The poignancy of these ancient words struck her. So many treated their marriage vows like a prison, something that would rein them in and keep them faithful out of the fear of God. And yet, hearing Mason’s nasally voice, Anne felt at total peace. All she wanted to do, for the rest of her life, was love, honor, comfort, and keep Ann Walker. What a privilege.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” they said in unison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone laughed, including both brides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Penalty of having the same name,” Mason joked, and Anne didn’t even mind. “That settles that. Will all of you witnessing these promises do all in your power to uphold these two persons in their marriage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will.” Their families responded dutifully, with Tib’s shout deafening the rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Father Mason prompted them on the vows, but Anne edited his voice from her memory. He was merely underscoring her as she said, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the Name of God, I, Anne Lister, take you, Ann Walker, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>These antiquated words were a comfort. Anne had always been partial to a traditional sort of wedding, with the trappings and the language. Besides, Ann had been fearful of writing her own vows, so they’d decided to stick with the Book of Common Prayer. It was like a song on Anne’s tongue, an ancient spell that tied them together. Ann’s blue eyes were an ocean, catching Anne in their tide and dragging her to sea - her only anchor: the press of her soft hand. She’d never been so happy to drown. Ann clasped her hands tightly as she spoke the words that bound them together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the Name of God, I, Ann Walker, take you, Anne Lister, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were no thoughts to be had in a moment like this. Anne worked very hard not to feel cynical, to let a snide thought or passing criticism cloud her mind. She focused on the warmth of Ann’s hand, the comfort of her presence, the palpable reality of their union. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have we got the rings?” Mason burst her bubble; Marian handed them over, allowing the priest to bless both bands. He handed the first to Anne, prompting her again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ann, I give you this ring as a symbol of my vow, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann was properly crying now, her hand trembling as Anne slid the band onto her finger. Bending slightly forward and bringing her hand up, Anne pressed her lips to the shiny, new band, cementing its place forever. She willed her own hand not to shake as Ann took it gently and followed the priest’s words:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anne, I give you this ring as a symbol of my vow, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne knew she shouldn’t have trusted that Parisian jeweler - the ring got caught on her knuckle. Why hadn’t she thought of this earlier? What ordinarily might have bothered her rolled right off of her back, as Ann giggled and shook her head. Anne grinned, sliding the ring over her own knuckle before returning it to Ann’s embrace. Ann kisses her joined rings through the thin film of her veil. “All that I am” - even with her too-big knuckles and her men’s clothes and her tendency to ramble. Anne swallowed past the lump in her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that Anne and Ann,” Mason continued, “have given themselves to each other by solemn vows, with the joining of hands and the giving and receiving of a ring, I pronounce that they are wife and wife, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, they’d changed the ancient text a little bit, but it was their wedding after all, wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amen,” the family called in support. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne longed to kiss her bride, but she resisted. For one thing, she wouldn’t feel they were truly married until they’d shared the Sacrament together. That was of paramount importance to her, and she knew Ann felt the same. The taking of Communion, the physical pledge before God - it was just as important as the words and the rings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For another thing, Ann’s veil still covered her face. It didn’t bother her, but Anne was a bit peeved with her father for forgetting this key step. She should’ve reminded him before the whole thing started. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Father Mason indicated that they should kneel, and the bridal parties shuffled to their seats. The blessings were beautiful, but Anne just let the words flow around her like the air. Her shoulder brushed against Ann’s, their forearms resting gently against the altar rail; she took Ann’s right hand in her left, squeezing gently as the priest blessed their union. He shuffled back to the aumbry, sliding open the concealed panel to gather the bread and wine that would seal their marriage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I going to do?” Ann hissed. “My veil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe he’ll bring you straw.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann hooted, jarring the priest and sending Anne into a fit of giggles herself. There it was - the joy that Ann brought to her life. The easy camaraderie between them, always. Anne was certain her heart would burst out of her chest. She hushed Ann playfully, then nudged her narrow shoulder, twisting to face her bride; Ann’s bright smile was warmer than the sun itself. With a broad grin, Anne lifted her bride’s veil, resisting the urge to snog her then and there. Reluctantly, she turned back to the priest, willing herself to be somber and serious for this moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, really, was there anything more joyful than the taking of Communion? The promise that Christ had loved humanity enough to give of himself to save them. She thought back to Marian’s words last night, her fear of “giving up everything” for another person. Anne didn’t feel she’d given anything up; by loving Ann, she only gained - stability, family, joy, love. Marian was a Doubting Thomas - she couldn’t believe that such a sacrifice could lead to such an incredible outcome. Anne did. Anne had the proof in her hands as she and Ann stood to face each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Father Mason was pronouncing the final prayer, but Anne didn’t even hear him. She’d done it -<em>they’d</em> done it. They were joined in the eyes of God and their families. All that was left - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may now kiss the bride.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne didn’t need telling twice. She settled her hands on Ann’s hips, electricity dancing between them as Ann curled an arm around her neck and a hand in her lapel. Anne dipped her bride back, pressing their lips together soundly, and the world stopped turning. For that brief eternity, they were the only people in the room, in existence, in history. There was nothing but the firm press of Ann’s lips, the comforting embrace of her arms, the arousing lift of her leg into the air to rest easily near Anne’s hip. When they straightened, and the world started to spin again, Anne looked down at her wife. Not her bride or her fiancée or her girlfriend or her arousing and reclusive neighbor. Not “wife” for the sake of expediency. Actual, proper wife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t stop smiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They floated on air to the back of the church, hand-in-hand. The organ played triumphantly, and Tib and Catherine cheered. Aunt Anne’s cane swatted her lightly on the calf, a sharp and comforting gesture that only buoyed Anne further into the sky. She turned to look at Ann, who was grinning just as broadly as she was, tears of joy streaming down her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stepping into the bring March sun, Anne spun her wife into her arms, grinning broadly and kissing her soundly before the rest of the family could trundle outside to pelt them with rice. There was still the license to sign and the reception to have and the first dance to stumble through, but Anne didn’t care. She could do any of it. All of it. Whatever. She could do it, and she would do it. With Ann Walker by her side. She cradled Ann’s smiling face in her hands, rolling her hips gently as Ann’s fingers dug into her sides under her her long coat, then pulled away with a broad grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We did it.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!!</p><p>I adapted the traditional marriage ceremony from the Anglican Book of Common Prayer, which feels right to me. The order of events is based on the BCP, but it feels a little hinky to me. Oh well. Also, I bypassed the prayers etc. for our own reading because like... what are we here for. </p><p>I meant to draw out the morning before a little more, but here we are. I’d planned on doing the reception next, from Ann’s perspective, but is there interest in seeing this all from Ann’s POV? Sometimes I think those chapters can get a little repetitive. </p><p>Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. A Massive Joke</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>For the blissful moment that Mason signed his part of the marriage license, Ann closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of Anne’s arm around her waist. She let her mind finally process the events of this unbelievable day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She woke up too early, so she’d had too much time to think. Catherine did her makeup, and Elizabeth did her hair. She spent at least twenty minutes sitting on her hands to resist picking her nails. She’d thought about hiring a professional hair and makeup person but she really just wanted the time with her sister and best friend. Who were, actually, not quite as supportive as Ann had hoped. Or, rather, not in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> that she’d hoped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell us, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> dirty thing,” Catherine begged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Cat!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, Catherine,” Liz scolded. “Today is about love, not sex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even so, just a few minutes later, Ann’s big sister shocked her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Annie, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She loves you, okay? She’ll be there. She’s going to get all mushy and then she’s going to shag you silly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liz! Oh my God!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Elizabeth shrugged, “am I wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me you two only ever ‘make love,’” Cat piped in with a shiver. “Gross.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We-!” Ann shook her head. “Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s very sweet,” Liz chuckled. “Though I do hope you’ll make some time for just </span>
  <em>
    <span>screwing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it, I’m not doing it.” She swatted Elizabeth’s hands from her head. “I’m not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann was only half-joking, in truth. She was nervous, actually deeply nervous, and these light-hearted attempts at distracting her did not help. Her hands shook, and her heart raced. There was no distracting her from the hurricane raging in her gut or the sweat pooling under her arms. This was her wedding day. How was it going to fall apart? What specific way could this all go wrong? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Elizabeth said softly, dropping down next to her, “what’s going through your mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if the power goes out?” She burst out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Elizabeth asked, not in a judgmental way; her voice was perfectly even and calm. Catherine seemed to take the hint and backed away, leaning against the bathroom counter. “Tell me more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are just -” Ann shook her head, “so many things that could go wrong. Something is bound to go wrong. It can’t be perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” her sister said slowly, “it won’t be perfect. You’re right. It’s normal to worry about these things. That said, the only thing that matters is that you and Anne do your rings and your vows and sign the paper. The rest of it is just fun, so if it goes wrong? Who cares?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From then on, Ann’s hurricane was the benevolent sort, spinning constantly but not destroying anything. Getting to the church and into her dress was a whirlwind. Sackville and Mary were mesmerized. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is she?” Sackville asked his father in a soft voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s your Aunty Walker,” George answered with a smile. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Sackville reached his grubby hand out to touch her dress, but Elizabeth caught him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think?” Ann asked her niece.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look like a princess,” she answered seriously. “Are you? A princess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann just giggled as George ushered the antsy children out of the room; Catherine followed him with little Elisabeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This dress is even better in person,” Elizabeth said appreciatively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think of my hair?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, as the one who did it,” Liz teased, “I think it looks great. As your sister, I think it looks great. As a proud owner of two working eyes, I think - you know what, I think it looks great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she chuckled into the mirror, turning herself to look at her back over her shoulder. “It’s not too low?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it looks great,” her sister answered pointedly. “You look beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What would Anne think, she wondered. What was Anne wearing? Was she already at the church right now? Ann longed for her evaluative eyes, dragging slowly over her body until Ann was squirming in anticipation. Two days was too long not to have Anne Lister’s hands on her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She heard Catherine shout through the door, then - speak of the devil - Anne’s low voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just - uh, looking for the loo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that Anne Lister?” Elizabeth called sternly, putting her hand on Ann’s stomach, catching her before she could step closer to the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann longed to fling the door open and see her bride; to hell with tradition, her impatient mind shouted, Anne was </span>
  <em>
    <span>right there</span>
  </em>
  <span>. All she needed was Anne, the reassurance of her brown eyes and the comforting embrace of her strong arms. From the look on Elizabeth’s face, Ann was more likely to astral project out of that room than go through the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Her fiancée’s sheepish voice came through, and Ann started to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out of here!” Elizabeth cried, throwing her hands up in frustration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going; I’m going. Can I -” Anne’s embarrassed tone turned serious and quiet. “I’ll see you soon, darling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be right there, Pony,” she answered genuinely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, they hovered, either side of the door. Ann longed to hear one more word from her, just a joke or a reassurance or even one of her sardonic hums. Anything, just to hear her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adney?” Her wife brought her back to the present, the moment with the license and Father Steve and his toothy smile. “Are we all set?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Ann answered. “Thank you, we - uh, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne shook the man’s hand, and they slipped out of the church. Anne had insisted on this open-top car, vintage and shiny and baby blue; this was actually the first time Ann had seen it in real life. She wondered if they’d be missed at the reception - perhaps Anne could shag her right here on the soft leather. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feels good, doesn’t it?“ Anne purred in her ear, one long arm around her waist, hand squeezing her hip tightly. “Being married.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does,” Ann grinned. “It really, really does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne opened the passenger door, and Ann took a moment to appreciate how handsome her wife was. She’d nearly broken into tears as soon as she saw her at the altar. These sharp grey trousers and waistcoat, her dark hair framing her face, the cravat and the coat and the shiny black brogues; now, her cufflinks and buttons glinted in the late morning sun, which was almost as bright as the smile on her handsome face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann stepped closer, slid her hands around her wife’s narrow waist, and kissed her hard. She needed it, felt a deficit from the days apart, wanted to know the difference between kissing Anne before and kissing her now. Was it sweeter or was Ann imaging it? Certainly the way Anne’s broad hands pressed into her bare back felt especially delicious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be late,” Anne breathed against her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forget them. Let’s just drive somewhere. Stay in bed for days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne exhaled a chuckle and shook her head, drawing back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got to go, my love. I’d like to show you off, for starters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Ann sighed dramatically. “I suppose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you to know,” Anne said as they pulled out of the parking lot, driving slowly with the sun at their backs, “that I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pony,” Ann cooed, taking her wife’s hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “This bloody ring. Why didn’t we try it on before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think about it,” she chuckled. “It was sweet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think moments like that,” Anne sucked her teeth, deep in thought, “are special. It’s - um - it’s - like, what a great story that’ll be. What a unique moment. I can’t wait to tell our - um, our friends about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann wondered if that “our” was leading somewhere else, but she didn’t push it. She smiled; it was kind of cute, wasn’t it? A silly story to break up the solemn ceremony. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this,” she laughed, pulling the veil from her head and tossing it into the back of the car. “I thought I’d have to kiss you through this thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would,” Anne said, squeezing her hand, “but I could throttle Father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t! He said the nicest thing to me while we were walking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He said, ‘one foot in front of the other. That’s how we’ll get to Anne, and that’s how you’ll get through life.’ Isn’t that nice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A bit trite,” Anne harrumphed, causing Ann to scoff and nudge her shoulder. “What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Getting this,” Ann said proudly, pulling the small cooler from under the seat. “My crown.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A flower crown?” Anne groaned, darting glances at Ann as they meandered toward Shibden. “Are you trying to kill me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hardly,” she chuckled, flipping down the mirror and shoving bobby pins between her teeth; she adjusted the band of pale pink roses around her temple and secured it. “How’s this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me pull this car over right now,” her wife growled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pony!” Ann laughed and scooted closer, leaning into her wife’s firm chest as they got closer to the house; Anne draped her arm along the back of the bench seat. “Can you drive like this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding? Now I </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to drive like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” she said softly, curling Anne’s arm around her and toying with her fingers. Her joined wedding and engagement bands gleamed in the sun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.” She felt Anne shift, then heard her sputter. “Damn it, I was - those are real flowers!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Pony,” she laughed, “they really are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I’ve just stuck my mouth on a thorn,” Anne grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann laughed for the rest of the drive. What a ridiculous and amazing person her wife was. Her wife. Legally, Anne Lister was her wife. There was no way that was real. If the universe was playing a massive joke on her, Ann didn’t care. These few hours of bliss were worth it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready?” Anne asked as she parked the car; Ann could see the tent full of friends and family in the distance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann tilted her chin, her lingering worries melting away as Anne took her in her arms. Their lips met slowly, but not softly; Ann could feel the undercurrent of hunger as Anne tilted her head and her hands slid up her bare back. She felt herself being eased backward, but she bit Anne’s lip and pulled away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not so fast, Mrs. Walker,” she breathed. “We’ve got a whole reception to get through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adney,” her wife whined, “I can’t take it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you can.” Ann kissed her again, just quickly. “Oh, it’s going to be so much better if we wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne groaned playfully as they clambered out of the car. She grabbed Ann’s hips from behind and whispered in her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a sly one, Mrs. Lister. You know what this back does to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you mean,” Ann teased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clicking her tongue, Anne came around beside her and took her hand. They had to cross a small section of grass to get to the tent, and Ann wobbled on her heels, grateful for Anne’s support. The tent was mostly full, people still milling about with their drinks. Ann was grateful for the cool weather, the soft sunlight, the universe that seemed to cater to their plans. She could faintly hear Tib hollering above the crowd, no doubt announcing them in some lewd way. She didn’t mind; she just clutched Anne’s hand as they strode closer, grinning at the applause and the cheers and the smiling faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instantly, they were surrounded, Ann could barely keep track of the handshakes and introductions and congratulations. There were their colleagues, the extended tribe, the various neighbors and acquaintances that Anne wanted to impress. Ordinarily, Ann might’ve been overwhelmed by the crush of people, but today, she was perfectly calm. Anne kept her grounded, a firm hand on her lower back, soft whispers in her ear, and constant, full-throated praise to everyone they met. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t she bloody gorgeous?” Anne told Hinscliffe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hands to yourself,” she admonished a distant relative on the Rawson line; “this one’s mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t believe how much work Ann has done to plan this,” she bragged to a neighbor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lovely day for it, eh?” Anne asked Mother Rawson. “We’re so pleased you could make it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anne Lister,” Mother Rawson said appraisingly, reaching her hands upward; Anne bent forward until her face was between the matriarch’s chubby hands. “You are a good one. But Ann Walker is the best one. Do you understand that?” Anne nodded; for a moment, Ann couldn’t breathe - what would happen if Mother Rawson disapproved? She was volatile enough to make a scene. Then she smiled, the old woman, and Anne smiled too. “I think we’ll keep you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breathing a sigh of relief, Ann allowed herself to be led to the bridal party’s table. Servers started to pass out appetizers, and Ann steeled herself for the toasts. Tib and Catherine had been barred from speaking, but she was pretty sure they had a scheme to get the microphone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go first,” Captain Lister said, drawing the crowd to silence with just his presence. “I’m not a man of many words, and I’m not changing now. Congratulations, Anne and Ann. I am now the proud father of three daughters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised his champagne flute and sat down; Ann could see even that short toast had been a major speech for him. She found her wife’s knee under the table and squeezed it affectionately. Anne, who’d draped her coat on the back of her chair and was now (somehow) </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> dashing in her waistcoat and shirtsleeves, laid her arm along the back of Ann’s chair as Elizabeth stood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, everyone, I’m Elizabeth Sutherland.” She patted Ann’s shoulder affectionately. “If you know me, you know I’m pretty protective of my little sister. Initially, I had some doubts about old Dr. Lister when I first heard they were shacked up together.” A small wave of laughter, and Ann shook her head; she guessed the story of their quarantine was pretty well-known. “But I have to be honest - I can’t find a single flaw with Anne Lister. And I tried.” More laughter. “Annie, I am so happy to see you happy; I’ve never seen you like this, and I’m so proud of you. Lister: I’ll tell you what I told you the first day we spoke. If it comes down to it,” she paused dramatically, “no one will find your body.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth sat down to cheers and laughter, holding the microphone out to Marian. Ann watched in horror as Tib’s long arm reached over her and snagged it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah-ha!” She crowed, getting to her feet. “Well, Marian said she was a bit shy, so she’d let me and Cat do the honors. Now, Lister, I’ve known you a long time. I’d like to go through a few of your best moments so that your lovely bride can know the real you. Moment 1: waking up naked -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tib!” Anne bellowed, rising to her feet; Ann could see the dangerous fire in her wife’s eyes. She spat out the next few words: “sit. Down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tib opened her mouth, but then clamped it shut. She dropped into her seat and passed the microphone over her shoulder to Catherine with a roll of her eyes. Anne sat down, adjusting her waistcoat with a huff and putting her arm back around Ann’s chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Annie!” Catherine said cheerily. “You’re my best friend, and I couldn’t be happier on this, your special day. We’ve gone through so much together, and I am so proud of the proper, grown-up lady you’ve become. You and Anne are the best couple I know, and I can’t wait to get drunk with you for years to come!” A rousing chorus of cheers, even from the still-pouting Tib. “To Ann and Anne!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann’s heart filled with affection for her best friend, and she clinked her glass with her wife’s before taking a small sip of champagne. Best to keep that in check, she reminded herself. Long night ahead, and she’d hate to lose even a moment of it to the fuzziness of alcohol. She watched the microphone travel to Marian again, who rose to her feet with a playful smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here we go,” Anne whispered in her ear, groaning when Ann elbowed her in the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Around our house, we call them Big and Little Ann. I’m sure you can figure out which one is which,” Marian chuckled with the rest of the guests. “Big Anne and I don’t always get along. If you have a sister, you know what I mean. In the past year, since Little Ann came into her life, I’ve seen a change in my big sister. She’s gone from a real pain in my ass -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, now!” Anne shouted with a grin; the rest of the guests laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A pain in my ass,” Marian said forcefully, “to someone I actually really enjoy being around. Most of the time.” More laughter; Ann nudged her wife’s chest with her shoulder. “So, to Little Ann, I say - thank you. Thank you for coming in here and making Big Anne a nice person to be around again.” She raised her glass. “To Big and Little Ann!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne laughed helplessly as their closest family, friends, neighbors, and colleagues toasted to her least favorite nickname; Ann turned to her, stealing a quick, champagne-flavored kiss. It was hard, though, to bring their lips together with all this grinning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The meal itself passed in a flash. Ann barely got to eat a bite, between chatting excitedly with her family and greeting well-wishers. It was a whirlwind of the very best kind - congratulations and handshakes and compliments and Anne’s hand on her shoulder, her thigh, her back. She was so caught up in the joy and the laughter and the gratitude that she almost didn’t notice Mariana Lawton approach their table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be right back,” Anne said softly, as she started to rise from her chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do it.” Tib came out of nowhere, a strong hand on Anne’s shoulder, pressing her back down. “I’ve wanted to tell her something for a while now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tib!” Anne hissed as she strode away, so tall and imposing in her suit. “Damn it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne slumped back into her chair, biting her lip and jostling her leg. Ann could see it was weighing on her, that she was torn between wanting to hash things out with Mariana and ignoring her to be with Ann. With a soft hand on her knee, Ann got her bride’s attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk to her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not especially. Not now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Later, maybe?” Ann offered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” she conceded, her face still crumpled with indecision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what I thought when I first saw you? Today, I mean?” Anne shook her head. “I thought - I thought there had never been anyone more stunning. More devastatingly handsome than you. You had this - this tender look in your eye. Well, before you started crying,” Ann chuckled, straightening her wife’s cravat. “You looked at me, and I - I had never felt so safe. I just want you to know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne leaned forward, catching Ann’s lips in a fierce, emotional kiss. They broke apart when Marian cleared her throat loudly behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we cut this cake or what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you get one piece of this on my dress,” Ann warned, “I will divorce you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne just laughed, taking the oversized knife from her sister and pulling Ann’s back to her front. She wrapped a strong arm around Ann’s waist, and Ann closed her eyes, just for a moment, to enjoy the feeling of being molded to Anne’s firm body. Had it only been two days? It felt like eternity. Ann wrapped her hand around Anne’s, and they sliced a clumsy piece of the white cake together. They barely managed to get it onto a plate, before Anne was spearing a piece and holding it out to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Adney,” she said in a low voice. “Take it in your mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann started to choke and laugh, tears running down her face as she struck her wife in the ribs. Anne rubbed her back, but her warm hand on Ann’s exposed back only made her breathe come faster. She could barely breathe by the time the waitstaff started to slice the cake and pass out plates. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not fair,” she giggled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t resist,” Anne shrugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re impossible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne pecked her lips quickly as they went back to their seats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you love it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I do,” Ann grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All too soon, they were being beckoned to the dance floor by the bandleader. They’d been practicing on and off for a few months, but Ann was a bit nervous to slow dance in front of everyone. She and Anne had decided on something simple, mostly just turning around in rhythm, partly due to Ann’s shyness and Anne’s left feet. And yet, now it seemed worse, somehow. More intimate. Was she really just going to slow dance with Anne Lister in front of everyone she knew?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, in fact, she was. The moment Anne took her in her arms, that worry melted away. It didn’t matter, of course. She should’ve predicted this. The rest of the world faded away - the white linens and the silent servers and the colorful rainbow of guests. Mother Rawson and her cackle. Celia and her flash of red hair and bright smile. The Lawtons, the Rawsons, old Mrs. Norcliffe. Ordinarily, Ann would’ve been embarrassed to speak to any one of them, much less dance in front of them. In Anne’s strong arms, however, courage felt easy .</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what I was thinking about?” Anne said softly as Ann laid her head on her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Ann traced her left hand up into the hair at the base of her neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How brave you are,” her fingers tapped along Ann’s lower back, “to show this side of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, your back is what - um, what the tribe uses against you, right? To say you’re an invalid?” Ann nodded. “And look at you now. Showing off how strong and beautiful it -</span>
  <em>
    <span> you</span>
  </em>
  <span> are. That takes a lot of guts, Mrs. Lister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann straightened to look up at the woman who had transformed her from a reclusive, invalid spinster into an active wife and friend, someone who could leave the house, hold down a job, dance in front of people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all you, Pony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not,” Anne said with a placid smile. “It’s you. That’s the best part. You had this in you all along. I’m so glad I’m along for the ride.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there were other couples - the bandleader calling for married couples to join the fray. Ann reveled in their brushing shoulders and laughing missteps. She was one of them now. A real married woman. A wife. She’d never thought it possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to go,” Anne dragged her off the floor. “I can’t do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dance,” Anne laughed, motioning to the bartender for two drinks; she leaned one arm against the bar, pulling Ann close by the hip. “How long before we can leave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hours,” Ann grinned, running her hand along the sharp lapel of her waistcoat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now this,” Anne delicately tapped her fingers against Ann’s flower crown, “is perhaps the most adorable thing I’ve seen you in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Adney.” She passed Ann a sweaty beer. “Don’t make that face!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m supposed to drink this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t have you passing out, darling, but you ought to have some fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann groaned, but she drank. The single beer was enough, and soon she was dancing with Catherine, with Elizabeth, with Sackville and Mary. She laughed as Anne twirled her aunt around the floor, then felt her heart swell as Captain Lister cut into her dance with Thomas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s a good one,” her father-in-law said seriously, “but don’t take her rubbish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look beautiful,” he said as if it were a cough; Ann knew it was the best he could do, so she saved him from having to say more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen that car Anne got us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, nearly all of the men (and Tib) were traipsing out to admire the vintage automobile. Anne found her way back to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and whispering in her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it?” Ann grinned up at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we leave already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pony!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the band started up again. A series of fast songs that left Ann sweaty and barefoot and holding her skirt up around her calves. Anne’s waistcoat was unbuttoned, her cravat loose around her neck, her hair pulled back into a low pun. Ann danced up to her handsome bride, grinning and bouncing and shouting on the crowded dance floor. Anne pulled her close, hands on her hips and lips on her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By now, Ann was ready to go. She was tired and buzzed and aching for her wife. The guests were thinning anyway, and Ann wanted to leave at the peak of the party. Catherine raced up to the stage, took the microphone from the between-songs bandleader, and announced the tossing of the bouquet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann couldn’t find her flowers. Nobody could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you had them,” Catherine told Elizabeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had three fuc-” she shot a look at Mary and Sackville, admiring Captain Lister’s military uniform and its differences from their father’s. “I had the kids!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think they’re - Jesus, I think they’re at the church still.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Catherine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine.” Ann started to take the pins from her crown. “I’ll toss this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adney,” her wife warned, “ don't you - wouldn’t you want to keep that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weren’t you going to tear it off me anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann could see her wife’s tongue press into the inside of her cheek, practically heard the filthy things in her mind, almost able to feel her hungry hands on her body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The small group of hopeful women crowded at the base of the stage as Ann made her way up. She turned around and tossed. Raucous applause and laughter. She spun around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the very back of the crowd, red-faced and chagrined, with the loop of pale pink roses in her hand, stood one Isabella Norcliffe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Watch out, Pic!” Anne cried, laughing and helping Ann down to the floor. “I’ll keep my suit pressed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, amid laughter and cheers, Anne and Ann made their exit. Arm in arm, with matching grins and giddy laughter, they climbed back into that vintage car. Anne honked the horn as they pulled away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where to next, Mrs. Walker?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anywhere.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!!</p><p>I didn’t get as much time to write today as I'd hoped, which is kind of a let-down for what I feel is an important chapter. I wanted to weave in the pieces of Ann’s POV for the service that seemed important, but stick mostly to the reception. I hope y’all aren’t disappointed. </p><p>Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Exhilaration of Surrender</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>what if this one <i>didn’t</i> have smut? <br/>lololol it’s very dirty</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I hope you won’t be disappointed,” Anne said, “that we’re staying close to home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne inhaled, relishing the press of her wife into her side as they drove around the backroads of the estate. This car really was something else; she’d wanted to arrive in style, without the presence of a driver, just the two of them. The luxury of the long bench seat meant Ann could cuddle right up to her; honestly, why had car manufacturers started putting those stupid consoles in the way? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, my darling, I,” she turned down the newly cut gravel road, “wanted us to stay somewhere familiar. For our first night. Somewhere that we love and where we can be as loud as we like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Ann said slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe this was a mistake, Anne thought suddenly. Why hadn’t she just booked a proper hotel? She’d put Pickles through a week of work, for what? Normal people just go to a hotel. This was so bloody stupid, she berated herself as she pulled up to the chaumière. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pony,” her wife sighed, and Anne scrambled out of the car to open her door. “This is - you did all of this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Pickles did the work. Putting this road through the backside of the forest, so we could access it. I didn’t want you to walk your pretty dress through the woods.” Ann chuckled and curled into her side as they walked up to the hut. “But I did the inside. The lights.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne had covered the outside of the small structure in twinkling lights, which, in the waning light of this early spring day, cast the entire clearing in a warm, yellow light. She’d dreamed of this exact moment for weeks - the reveal, the look in Ann’s eyes, their first night together as a couple - but now Anne was distracted by the torrent of desire swirling in her gut. Ann’s warm body pressed into hers was more than enough to set her aflame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful,” her wife breathed. “This is perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it?” Anne said nervously, her hand on the doorknob. “We can go to a hotel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding? Pony, I - this is perfect, because we’re still at Shibden. I know this place is important to you, and it’s important to me. You want to share this day with the estate just as much as any of those people back there in that tent. Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne nodded, her throat constricting with affection for the woman who understood her better than she understood herself. She swung the door open, ushering Ann into the hut. She’d rearranged it, and now a large, canopied bed occupied the main room. There was a minifridge and a microwave and an assortment of snacks. A stack of logs sat next to the fireplace, and candles lined every available flat surface. Anne went about lighting these as she spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The bedroom out here is so small, and I - I thought it would be nice to have the larger space. When we get back, I’ll move this bed into the bedroom, and we can get rid of the old one. There’s food and wine, and I’ll do the fire. Is it -” she ran her hand through her messy hair, inadvertently releasing the bun she’d tied back at the reception. “Is it okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a broad grin and a shake of her head, Ann closed the distance between them, crashing her lips into Anne’s. What a relief, Anne though. Finally, finally giving in to this desperate need. Ann’s hands were on her cheeks, around her neck, in her hair. She couldn’t get her wife close enough, couldn’t press her hands firmly enough into her bare back, couldn’t get nearly enough of Ann Walker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adney,” she growled as she walked her wife back into the wall, “I can’t wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann whined, rolling her hips up into Anne’s. Their kisses were deep, hungry, desperate. Anne reached one hand down to bunch up Ann’s dress, slipping her hand up and between her legs. She broke away, moaning in Ann’s ear at the wetness greeting her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re kidding,” she keened, stroking between Ann’s folds. “You aren’t - nothing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It - unh, it messed up the-” Ann’s eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly as her hips moved with Anne’s gentle teasing, “the line of the dress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne could only groan and sink her fingers into her wife’s clutching center. It felt like the first time she’d touched Ann - novel and intoxicating and perfect. She wanted to do it over and over again. Ann wrapped her arms around her back, moaning softly with each thrust. Anne found her clit, pressing gently as she teased Ann’s neck with sharp kisses. It was like coming home - this reconnection between their bodies. Never again, she vowed, would she go two days without feeling this bliss. She couldn’t stand it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m close,” Ann wanted, her hips bucking into Anne’s. “God, Pony, I missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you,” she purred, speeding up the movements of her hand. “All I could think about - back there - was fucking you. Being inside you.” Ann keened, her hips jerking with the first wave of her release. “Making my wife come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that last stroke, Ann shot over the edge, her fingers digging into Anne’s shoulders as she shuddered against the wall. Anne kissed her neck tenderly, then her jaw, then her lips. Ann’s eyes opened slowly, a slack smile on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I needed that,” she sighed as Anne pulled her hand away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you?” Anne held her wet hand up to her wife’s face; she groaned as Ann took her fingers between her lips. “I thought maybe, uh - maybe it was too fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A warm-up,” Ann said softly, kissing the tips of Anne’s index and ring fingers. “Before the main event.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Ann toyed with her loose cravat, “you’d mentioned a few things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As had you,” Anne countered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we do my thing first?” Ann said with the excitement of a child. “I don’t want to get too tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne nodded slowly, bending to bring their lips together again. Clumsily, they shuffled back toward the bed until Ann sat at the foot of it. Anne knelt before her, eased her heels from her feet, placed a kiss over her gown-covered knees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall we have a fire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pony!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne chuckled as she set the fire nearby. Properly romantic, she thought. Turning back to her wife, she pulled her cravat through her collar; it snapped in the air. She watched Ann’s eyes widen as she returned to her spot at her feet. She slipped her hands along Ann’s bare ankles, up her calves, to the bend of her knees below the dress. Even just the sensation of her warm skin in Anne’s hands was reassuring. Comforting. She looked up at her wife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do I get this bloody thing off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann giggled and indicated a zipper under her left arm. Stretching up on her knees, Anne caught her lips again, sliding the zipper down with one hand, wrapping the other around her wife’s rib cage. Ann’s gentle hands cupped her face, her tongue slipping sweetly along Anne’s; Anne could taste the champagne and their wedding cake on her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are so beautiful,” she said reverently, easing the gown from her wife’s shoulders and revealing inch after tantalizing inch of creamy skin. “When I saw you, I - my heart stopped. I thought maybe I’d die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann blushed, shaking her head. So bashful, Anne thought with a smile, as if she wouldn’t say the dirtiest thing in just a matter of moments. What a perfect creature, she mused, dipping her head to press her lips to the expanse of Ann’s chest. The dress pooled at her waist, but Anne didn’t have time to take it all the way off. Not yet. For now, she needed to reacquaint herself with the perfection that was Ann Walker’s breasts. Her lips and hands traced over every inch, her tongue dragging over her hard nipples, her fingertips roaming along her ribs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pony,” Ann breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I’d known,” Anne kissed her sternum, then a straight line down her chest to the line of white fabric near her hips, “you were naked under here, I’m not sure we would’ve made it to the reception at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s this dress,” her wife chuckled, shifting to let Anne pull the dress the rest of the way off. “With the back, the way it -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your back,” she growled, nipping lightly at Ann’s hip bone, “should be illegal. Totally unfair.” She dragged her tongue across Ann’s belly, nipping her other hip bone before sitting on her heels and looking up at her wife. “It’s a wonder I made it through the ceremony at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann whined as Anne pressed her lips to the insides of her thighs, trailing closer to her center. Breathing deeply, Anne filled her lungs with the scent of her wife’s arousal, relishing the slick, potent reminder of Ann’s need. She dragged her tongue between her folds, humming softly as she went about her worship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Above her, Ann mumbled incoherently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There, Pony, I - fuck, that’s what - yes, I - right there - yes, more of - yes, Pony, Pony, I - oh, fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the last word, Ann’s hips bucked, and Anne had to lay her broad hands along her hips to steady her. She closed her lips around Ann’s clit, sucking gently as Ann writhed and squirmed against the sheets. Ann’s thighs tensed, and Anne knew she was close. She pulled her head back, ran her hand down the crease where torso met thigh, then traced her index finger through her arousal. Ann pressed up into her touch, whimpering softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anne. Come here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a parting kiss to her wife’s quivering clit, Anne crawled up onto the bed, continuing her gentle ministrations as she pressed her lips to Ann’s belly, her breasts, her clavicles, her lips. She watched Ann’s eyes slip closed and her back arch as Anne eased inside of her. This was different - miles away - from the quick rut against the wall. This was delicate and tender and patient. Anne shifted to grind against Ann’s thigh as she whispered into her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like that, Adney.” Ann gripped her arm, lifting her hips into each measured stroke. “God, you’re so hot. Fuck, you - oh, I love you.” Ann whined, her hips urging Anne faster and deeper. “You need it, baby?” The soft keen was all Anne needed to slip another finger inside. “You take me so well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann pulled her closer, her fingers digging into Anne’s back. Anne pressed her lips to her wife’s neck, pumping her hand faster, stretching her with a third finger and strumming her clit with every thrust. She felt Ann contract around her, that telltale flutter mixing with the increasingly high-pitched whines falling from her wife’s lips. She thrust once, twice more and Ann stretched taut, her body shaking and a sharp cry erupting from her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There she is,” Anne husked in her ear, slowing her strokes to ease every drop of pleasure from the trembling heap that was once her bride. “Oh, fuck, Adney.” She kissed her sweat-slick pulse point. “Good heavens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pony,” Ann sighed, her body relaxing back into the sheets. “Oh man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think it’s better now that we’re married?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann giggled, shaking her head. Her eyes were still closed, a breathless smile playing at her lips. One lazy hand reached up to run along Anne’s shoulder, toying with the lapel of her waistcoat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to keep trying, and find out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne laughed and kissed her. What else was there to do? That lazy hand tugged at Anne’s waistcoat, urging her closer as Ann kissed her fiercely. Anne cupped her hip, pressing their bodies together. After a desperate moment, Ann pushed her shoulder back gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve always got too many clothes on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne chuckled, sat on the foot of the bed, and stretched her arms wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome to remedy that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A trill of bright laughter filled the room as Ann sat up and hovered behind her. She pressed her lips to Anne’s neck and eased her waistcoat from her shoulders. Molding her bare body into Anne’s back, she ran her hands down her arms and brought Anne’s hands to her chest. Anne watched her nimble fingers unclasp her cuff links - first the right, then the left. The firm press of Ann’s sharp chin into her shoulder comforted her as she started to unbutton her shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, Anne Lister, are perhaps the most attractive devil I’ve ever seen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Devil?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Angel.” Ann kissed the side of her neck. “Goddess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Anne chuckled as her wife’s warm hands roamed her stomach, the underside of her bra. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no way you can be human.” Ann’s hands slid under the soft cotton of her bra; Anne let her, closing her eyes and sagging back into her wife. “Not with the way you look. The way you speak. The way you touch me and fuck me and love me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adney.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann massaged her breasts softly, kissing the side of her neck tenderly. Anne was getting better at this - at letting Ann touch her. After a few moments, her hands trailed lower, flicking open Anne’s trousers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stand up,” Ann breathed in her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne rocked to her feet, turning to face her wife, who scrambled to meet her with a wide grin. Ann slipped her shirt from her shoulders, then dropped to her knees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pony,” she scolded gently, “you’ve still got your shoes on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t have time,” Anne breathed, struggling to steady herself with Ann unlacing her brogues and easing themself from her feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann grinned as she hooked her fingers in Anne’s waistband, easing her trousers over her hips, dropping kisses along her thighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These shorts.” Ann nipped at the elastic of Anne’s green-striped boxer-briefs. “You know I love them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” she breathed as Ann slipped them off as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Ann’s face appeared in front of her, that tender smile playing at her lips as she pulled Anne’s bra over her head. She kissed her again; their naked bodies molding together for the first time in what felt like ages. Having surrendered control for long enough, Anne dug her fingers into her wife’s hips, backing her up to the bed. Ann pulled away, nipping Anne’s bottom lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne laughed and trotted over to their provisions, grabbing a bottle of wine and their favorite black box. She opened the former, dropping the latter on the bed next to Ann’s hip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you hungry, darling?” She asked as she filled two glasses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Ann said simply, taking a sip before handing the glass back to her. “I’m focused.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you?” Anne chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watched as Ann fit the harness squarely around her hips, aligning that magic base just so. Ann kissed her shoulder and pulled away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne couldn’t deny the thrill racing up her spine at her wife’s determined eyes, her monosyllabic answers, her matter-of-fact expression. She set down the wine and climbed into bed, leaning against the headboard and biting her lip as Ann settled in her lap. Ann’s small, pale hands coated the strap in lubricant, driving the base against Anne’s clit and drawing soft moans from Anne’s throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re hot,” Ann breathed, scooting forward and hovering over the strap. “Ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They moaned in unison as Ann sank down, gripping Anne’s shoulders as she rolled her hips experimentally. Anne’s eyes weren’t big enough - she couldn’t get enough of the small rolls of her wife’s belly, the sensual bounce of her breasts, the sharp contrast between her white teeth and her pink lips. Their lips met slowly, languidly; their hips found the perfect rhythm. Anne felt at the mercy of her wife, and she didn’t even mind. She let Ann guide their pace, speeding up slowly, her breath coming faster, her whines inching closer and closer to cries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You feel so good,” Ann panted. “Fuck, Pony, that’s good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Anne bucked her hips, drawing a sharp cry for her wife; perhaps it was time to take back some control. “God, you look good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann whined, reaching behind Anne to grip the headboard. Anne brought their lips together, tangling her tongue with Ann’s until her wife broke away to catch her breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this what you’ve been thinking of?” Anne growled, grinding her hips a bit harder; each stroke sent a jolt of electricity to her clit. “Riding my cock?” She spanked Ann playfully. “Are you going to come, Adney?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann keened, and Anne took a handful of her ass, guiding her down harder. She slumped forward, her forearms on Anne’s shoulders, her hips rolling into each desperate thrust. Anne’s skin was on fire, her climax building between her legs and licking at the base of her spine. She found Ann’s clit, rubbing it frantically as she felt her release coil more tightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pony, I - fuck, harder, right -” Anne bucked her hips harshly, wrapping her arm around Ann’s back. “Yes, God, fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost there,” Anne groaned, trying to stave off her own climax as she pumped furiously into Ann. “I’m going to -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” her wife whined. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between incoherent whimpers, low grunts, the slick slap of their skin, Anne heard the symphony of their lovemaking. It was dirty and extraordinary and overwhelming. Ann tensed above her, flinging her head back as pleasure shook her body. Anne’s hips jerked as her release crashed into her. For a few long moments, they trembled together, their desperate gasps filling the small space. With a low groan, Anne’s body turned to jelly. She laughed as Ann fell into her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did we do it?” She asked, running a hand along her slick spine. “What you wanted?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good Lord, Pony, yes.” Ann kissed her shoulder, rose up slowly, then flopped onto the bed next to her. “Give me a second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne chuckled and laid a hand on Ann’s soft belly. She felt a bit of trepidation for what </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’d </span>
  </em>
  <span>planned for this evening. It seemed easy in theory. She trusted Ann enough, sure, but the reality of the situation tied her stomach in knots. How long had it been since another person had been inside of her? Years. It had been almost as long since she’d even done it herself. She’d essentially set that piece of herself aside, only dealing with it for her cycle or at the doctor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was important to her to offer this piece of herself. Here, on this night, with Ann, in this secluded piece of the estate. A deeper connection between them. Besides, she liked it when Ann darted inside her with her tongue. She knew Ann wouldn’t do anything to make her uncomfortable. A certain part of her craved it. She willed herself to breathe deeply, trust her body, and turned to her wife. Ann opened her eyes, looking up at her with that soft smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Ann said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi.” Anne drummed her fingers along her wife’s belly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re nervous.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann could always cut right to the point, couldn’t she?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s not do it,” Ann offered, lacing her fingers through Anne’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Anne said honestly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Ann kissed the back of her hand. “You know I don’t know what I’m doing, don’t you? That I’ve never done this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do. I also know that you love me, and you’ll take care of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann’s grin grew so wide that Anne couldn't help but mirror it. She sat up hurriedly, crawling on top of Anne and kissing her softly. She slotted one leg between Anne’s, tracing a hand over her belly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Anne. Do you know that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne nodded, spreading her legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in such a rush, Pony.” Ann kissed her gently. “Let me take care of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne was surprised, then, that Ann trailed a slow path across her chest. She spent what felt like an eternity lavishing each breast with attention - all soft lips and teasing tongue and gentle hands. Anne could admit that it felt good, even after years of denying herself this pleasure. She felt arousal building steadily between her legs, and she sighed as Ann gently bent her knees and settled between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Pony,” Ann said reverently, “do you want me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she breathed, tilting her head back with a low moan as Ann’s tongue made contact with her center. “Fuck, Adney.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann hummed, slowly tracing her tongue and lips over every inch of her core. Anne reached down, tangling her fingers in her wife’s blonde hair as she unraveled her, stroke by stroke. At the first dip of Ann’s tongue between her folds, she whimpered, a sound that ordinarily might have embarrassed her. Now? She was entirely lost to the mounting pleasure between her legs, the terrifying anticipation of giving herself totally to her wife, the exhilaration of surrender. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ann,” she breathed, lifting her hips. “Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann kissed the inside of her thigh. Anne shivered as a gentle finger traced along her folds. She couldn’t do it - not like this. Not with Ann so far away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come up here,” Anne begged. “I - I need you up here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A long trail of kisses brought Ann back to hover over her, kissing her lips once, then pulling back with a gentle smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne inhaled, lifting her hips as Ann’s finger slid inside of her. Slowly. Anne could feel herself tensing, but she forced herself to remain open. She wanted this; she needed it. God, it actually felt good. And then Ann was there. Inside of her. Fully. She exhaled. For a moment, they were both still. Anne adjusted to the sensation of being filled, the intimacy of the moment overwhelming her until a single tear escaped her eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anne?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” she said suddenly. It was all she could think of. It was the only thought in her head. It was all she needed to say. “I love you, Ann.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.” Ann kissed her softly, drawing her finger out slowly. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she breathed. “Keep going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann’s soft lips pressed to the track of her tear, and she built a slow, gentle rhythm. Anne reached down, angling Ann’s hand so that her palm pressed against her clit. She rolled her hips into Ann’s even thrusts, feeling that familiar flame building again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Pony, this is - this is incredible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You feel so good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Over,” Anne whispered, twisting her hips. “To the - yes,” she hissed as Ann grazed that perfect spot. “Fuck, Adney right there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anne Lister,” her wife purred. “You are mine, aren’t you?” Anne nodded frantically, rolling her hips and urging Ann on. “You belong to me. Totally and forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she gasped. “Ann, fuck, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Could this really be happening? Was she really this close to coming on her </span>
  <em>
    <span>back</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Beneath her shy little wife? She pulled Ann closer, calling out as her thrusts came harder. Soft lips sucked at her neck, the heel of Ann’s hand grinding against Anne’s clit with every stroke. Their breasts pressed together, delicious friction lighting her skin on fire. The room filled with her low moans, underscored by Ann’s soft, encouraging voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s my Pony. Come for me. Come on, darling. God, you feel good. Fuck, you - is that - oh, Pony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne’s deep moan burst from her chest as she succumbed to the rising wave of pleasure between her legs. She curled upward, sinking her teeth into Ann’s shoulder, her body shaking with the force of her climax. Perhaps it was the act itself. The entire day of build-up. A lifetime of waiting for this kind of trust and love and tenderness. When, at last, she sank back into the sheets, she was on the verge of weeping. She closed her eyes tightly, shivered as Ann’s hand pulled away, bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anne,” her wife said softly. “Can I tell you how much I love you? How beautiful you are? How proud I am to be yours?” She felt warm fingertips swipe across her jawline, gentle lips press to her forehead, cheeks, chin. “How good it felt to be connected to you like that? How incredibly honored I feel to be the one you trust that much? God, Anne, I - I love you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne opened her eyes fully, nearly closing them again at the sight of her sincere, smiling, generous wife above her. She tilted her chin, relishing the role reversal as Ann brought their lips together. Her hands seemed to find Ann’s spine automatically, grounding her in the comfort of her wife’s warm skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” she croaked, her voice rough and vulnerable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you do, Pony.” Ann kissed her softly before curling into her side. “Now, I need a few minutes to recover.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>need to recover?” Anne laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My arm is very tired,” Ann pouted playfully. “I need about five minutes. Then some wine and some food. Then you’re going to bend me over every flat surface in this shed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne laughed at the ceiling, shaking her head at the insatiable and incredible woman who was just foolish enough to marry her.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!!</p><p>This feels a bit rushed to me, between some errands and a stomachache I nursed most of the afternoon. A biiiiig one too. Damn. Did I do it justice? I’m not sure.</p><p>Definitely more wedding night smut to come in tomorrow’s chapter. </p><p>Thank you!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. Every Minute Accounted For</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Maybe I ate too much,” Ann groaned, dropping the now-empty container on the table. “I made a mistake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tottered over to the bed and flopped onto it, face-first. Anne laughed behind her, stretching out next to her with a reassuring arm on her back. They’d heated up take-out boxes from their own reception; Anne had had the caterer make them two place settings, knowing that they would barely eat at the event itself. Between that and the wine and the warmth of the chaumière, Ann was feeling overly full. Not in a bad way. Not necessarily in a let’s-go-three-more-rounds way either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I look inside my ring?” Anne asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah,” she turned over in excitement. “Look, look, look.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne wrenched the ring from her finger, turning it about in the low-light to read the inscription.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Psalm 91:11. Which one is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For he shall give his angels charge over thee,” she said softly, sitting up and looking over her wife’s shoulder, “to keep thee in all thy ways.” She kissed the back of Anne’s shoulder softly. “I want you to - to know that I love you how you are. Always. I pray to God that he will keep you just as you are, and - uh, and protect you. I know the world is - is not always kind. But I want you to remember that - that I never want you to change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne turned, her dark eyes stormy as they met Ann’s. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Ann knew the impact of these words, though she’d said them countless times in the past. There were never enough reminders for Anne, that insecurity ran too deep. Leaning forward, Anne brought their lips together for a deep, searching kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Anne husked as they parted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Ann pecked her lips again. “Now it’s my turn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slipped her wedding band from her finger, twisting it until she saw a string of numbers: 22.3.18:32. She looked up to Anne in question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the moment I knew I was in love with you,” she said softly. “That night on the couch, when you did that drawing.” Ann nodded. “It was 6:32, when you showed it to me. I was - that was the moment that I couldn’t deny it any longer. The moment I gave in, and I knew I’d have to marry you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anne,” she breathed, her head swimming with a thousand different thoughts. Unfortunately, the least romantic bubbled to the surface. “How are you so specific?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne just chuckled, kissing her again before slipping the ring back on her finger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From then until eternity, my darling. Every minute accounted for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re ridiculous,” Ann giggled, bringing their lips together again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I am,” Anne leaned her back into the sheets, “but I’d hate to waste even one second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their lips met slowly; the fullness in Ann’s stomach was soon forgotten as their bodies molded together. Ann cupped her wife’s face, stroked her strong back, ran her hands appreciatively along the rippling muscles of her arms. Anne’s firm body above her was enough to reinvigorate that flame between her legs, reminding her of what she’d wanted earlier. Tugging gently at Anne’s hair, she nipped her bottom lip and pulled back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Mrs. Walker, are you going to take me up on it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On what?” Anne furrowed her brow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was some mention of bending me over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne laughed, a deep, full-throated laugh before she kissed Ann again and rolled onto her back. Ann watched as she slipped into the harness, her handsome face covered in that devilish smirk. Arousal built steadily between her legs as Anne hopped to her feet, hands on hips as she surveyed the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where shall we start?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the table, as it turned out. Ann pressed herself into the cool wood, as Anne slid her cock gently between her folds. The first part of their wedding night had been soft, tender, poignant; Ann was still reeling from the intensity of being </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside</span>
  </em>
  <span> Anne Lister. Now, however, with the sun swiftly setting and two days of built-up need, Ann was aching for a hard, rough fuck. From the way Anne’s fingers dug into her hips, she could tell she felt the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready?” Anne asked, her voice low and rough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann whimpered, nodding and pushing her hips back. She moaned softly as Anne slid inside her. Though she’d already felt Anne’s cock tonight, this was different. She was able to cede control a bit more, let Anne guide their gentle, deep rhythm. Before, she’d had to exert so much energy, and now she could just relax into the table and </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Feel the exquisite pressure of Anne stretching her center. The intimacy of Anne’s hand on her hip. The tenderness of her fingertips tracing along her spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your back,” Anne breathed, “you can’t believe how much I love it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann sighed, driving her hips back into Anne’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Adney, you - God, you feel good. You’re so hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann keened, unable to form more than a few whining half-words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it.” She could practically hear Anne’s smug grin in her voice. “You love it, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she gasped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re mine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Adney, I - fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pony,” she whined. “Faster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cried out as Anne gripped her hips tightly, pulling her back onto her cock with every rough stroke. Ann relished the tight warmth of Anne’s hands on her skin, the steadily building fire between her legs, the mixture of low grunts and high cries in the air. Her clit ached for Anne’s nimble fingers, but she almost couldn’t bear for this moment to end. Anne Lister, filling her over and over again. The pure, unbridled passion of her wife stretching her with every merciless stroke. The intense and unbelievable force of their connection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anne. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She always knew, didn’t she? With tailored strength, Anne held tightly to one hip, the other reaching between Ann’s legs to find her clit. The combination of the relentless thrusting of the cock, the reassurance of her steady hand, the frantic strumming of her fingers - Ann jerked with the first wave of her climax. She almost wanted to hold off, to resist and stay in this unending build of pleasure. Anne seemed to disagree, rutting into her harder, flicking her clit faster. There was no use in resisting now; Ann surrendered to the tidal wave of her release. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faintly, she could hear Anne whispering gentle encouragements as Ann slumped against the table, her body shaking with pleasure. She sighed, her body relaxing with the final wave of pleasure. Anne’s strong hand ran along her spine, her lips pressing softly between her shoulder blades. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Adney,” she murmurred. “I’ve been dreaming of this back all day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann hummed as her wife pulled away, leading her gently to the bed. She curled into Anne’s side catching her breath as Anne tugged off the harness once again. A thought suddenly occurred to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay,” Anne soothed. “You were in such a rush.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pony,” she whined. “Put it back - why didn’t you - damn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adney, listen carefully. You gave me one of the most intense sexual experiences of my life tonight. I have had the absolutely best day. I would not change one thing, and I would not have you damn it. I love you, and I can see your eyes closing.” Ann shook her head, forcing her heavy eyelids open. “No, no, darling, go to sleep. I’ll be right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night turned hazy. Ann fell asleep, waking up with her hips grinding against Anne’s leg on their own. The room was dark, the fire only embers. Ann kissed the strong line of her wife’s neck, then the underside of her jaw. Anne stirred, her arm tightening around Ann’s waist, her lips moving sleepily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pony,” Ann whispered. “Are you awake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lying to me on our wedding day?” Ann nipped her sharp jawline. “Bad Pony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sleepy grin spread across her handsome face, and Anne’s eyes opened slowly. Ann crawled on top of her, fitting her thigh between Anne’s; she took her wife’s face in her hands, studied her for a moment, kissed her, then pulled back. Anne’s strong hands found her waist. For a moment they just stared at each other in the dim light. Ann licked her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think Tib was going to say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ann!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” she shrugged, “I mean, what was she going to say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ann Walker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ann Walker </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lister</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she corrected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had a thought,” Anne said seriously, her intelligent eyes searching Ann’s face. “About my name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be Anne Lister Walker?” Ann teased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” her wife drawled, “but you know I don’t have a middle name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I also became Anne Walker Lister?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Ann couldn’t stop the wide grin spreading across her face; she laid her palms flat against her wife’s chest, her fingers curling gently over her shoulders. “Seriously?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that silly?” Anne’s brilliant face betrayed a hint of insecurity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one would necessarily know, but - you know, it would matter to me. I would know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann leaned down, kissing her wife soundly. Anne Walker Lister. They really were quite a pair, weren’t they? Impossibly sentimental. Obsessed with symbolism. So desperate to own and be owned. She giggled as Anne rolled them over, her dark eyes sparkling above Ann. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what matters,” Anne whispered, trailing her hand across Ann’s belly. “That you know that I belong to you.” Ann kissed her again, hard; her head was spinning with desire and elation and sheer disbelief. “You’ll know, and I’ll know, and,” Anne kissed her once more, “the government will know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann giggled, pinching her wife’s side playfully. Anne kissed her again, tracing her hand over Ann’s stomach, her ribs, up to her breasts. Humming softly, Ann arched her back into the touch, relishing the press of Anne’s knowing hands against her sensitive skin. She kissed the side of Anne’s neck, the shallow hollow of her throat, the sharp line of her shoulder. Anne found the apex of her thighs, bringing their lips together as she traced through her arousal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann mirrored her, slipping her own hand between them to find her wife’s wet center. In unison, they moved together, filling the room with their heavy breathing and gentle sighs; Ann circled her wife’s entrance, unsure if Anne would want this again. But Anne just angled her hips, allowing the tip of Ann’s finger to slip inside once more. Ann pressed up, slowly sheathing her index finger in the warm center of Anne Fucking Lister. She was so enthralled she almost didn’t notice Anne sliding just as easily between her own folds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne kissed her fiercely as their hands moved in perfect rhythm. Ann was still getting the hang of it, finding Anne’s clit at the same time, but she was nothing if not determined. They moved together as one body, kissing and grinding and stroking and breathing. Ann’s climax built slowly, Anne’s hands almost too gentle as she teased her up to the edge. She felt the walls of Anne’s core clench around her finger, but she wasn’t sure exactly what that meant - Anne was panting, eyes closed, her hips grinding into Anns’ touch, but was she close? Why wasn’t she saying anything? How long had it been since they’d gone this far without speaking? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anne?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So close,” Anne bit out, her hand speeding up between Ann’s legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was this plea that let Ann surrender; she pressed the heel of her palm against Anne’s clit, relishing that now-familiar clutch, the tremble of her thighs, the uneven cadence of her breathing. Anne’s unraveling triggered her own, and Ann moaned as the tight coil in her gut released. She arched up into Anne’s trembling body, and they clumsily eased each other through their climaxes. With a final groan, Anne collapsed on top of her, her sharp pants filling Ann’s ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What exquisite bliss, Ann thought, slipping her hand out and running it along Anne’s arm. To be the one person who could reduce uptight and fearsome Anne Lister into a trembling, mushy pile. To hold her in her arms at her most vulnerable. To stand at her side on the proudest day of her life. Ann kissed every inch of skin she could reach until Anne straightened, kissed her sloppily, and rolled over next to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Anne husked in her ear, sliding behind her and pulling Ann’s back into her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Ann answered automatically, her eyes drifting closed and her hands settling on the strong arms around her waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, it was a few hours later. The middle of the night, Ann assumed, based on the quiet outside and the fact that her wife, inexplicably, was puttering around the room. Anne often woke her up like this, by going about the bedroom in what she </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a quiet way. It almost never was. Ann mewed softly, wanting the warmth and comfort of her wife’s body back in this bed. Anne spun around, grinning broadly as she pounced back onto the mattress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Anne purred before kissing her soundly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no way it’s morning,” Ann grumbled, threading her fingers through Anne’s dark hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Four fifty-five, my love.” Anne kissed her again. “Shall we get up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann grinned and pulled Anne down for another kiss. Their lips met slowly, without any real urgency. Ann rolled her hips up into Anne’s, sighing as Anne pulled away to pay homage to her chest. Most people thought of Anne Lister as impatient, and Ann could concede that she often was. Always hurrying, running out of time, never taking a moment to relax. But when Anne made love, particularly when she focused on the short stretch of skin connecting Ann’s neck to her hips, she moved so slowly as to be in reverse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those lips, so often pursed in annoyance, turned into soft pillows of affection. Her tongue, almost always lashing out at some inferior, became a tender tool for worship, tracing around her nipples, under each breast, over the sharp lines of her collarbones. Even her nose, which Anne often joked was too long, brushed against Ann’s overheated skin, reminding her just how close Anne was, how much closer she wanted to be. All this was nothing compared to her hands, perpetually ink-stained and busy with work, that roamed gently, patiently, reverently across Ann’s pale skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pony, can we - did you -” she couldn’t string together enough syllables to say what she needed. “The thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The thing?” Anne pressed a hard kiss to her sternum. “Use your words, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know.” She rolled her hips up. “Did you bring it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ye of little faith,” Anne chuckled, climbing off of her and trotting to their bags to retrieve the vibrator. “You thought I wouldn’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann giggled, reaching her arms out for her wife with the smug smile. What a righteous prick she could be, Ann thought, how fucking arousing. Anne crawled into bed again, dropping the vibrator near Ann’s shoulder, trekking her way slowly down her torso once again. Ann squirmed against the sheets as that dark head descended between her legs, teasing her center until she was gasping and bucking and tugging at her wife’s tangled hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That smug grin appeared between Ann’s legs, and she shook her head, unable to control her own wide smile as Anne moved up her body like a lioness stalking her prey. Their lips met fiercely, all tongue and desperation and urgency. Anne broke away, her chest heaving as she licked her swollen lips. A soft moan escaped Ann’s lips as Anne authoritatively intertwined their legs; the anticipation alone sent a flood of arousal between her legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, I love you,” Anne sighed as she brought their cores together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann curled her arms around her wife’s neck, pulling her down for a slow kiss as their hips moved together.  For a few blessed moments, they moved in perfect, tender harmony. She ran her hands along Anne’s broad back, along her clavicle, across her breasts, down the sharp, proud line of her jaw. The depth in Anne’s eyes threatened to swallow her up, but she didn’t mind. She couldn’t think of a better way to spend eternity than immersed in that dark fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first pass of the vibrator between them made Ann gasp; her wife pulled it away and furrowed her brow. Ann swallowed, covering Anne’s hand and bringing it back between them. She moaned softly as pleasure raced up her spine and skated across her skin. Anne hummed above her, twisting her hips in the search for friction. Ann’s hips jerked once, and Anne grinned, crashing their lips together in a messy kiss. Ann closed her eyes, lost to the sensation between her legs, on her lips, in her chest. Before she knew it, she was vaulting into the warm waters of her release. The shudders and gasps of her wife only spurred her on, and the chaumière quickly filled with their ragged breathing and soft whimpers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck,” Anne groaned as she flopped to the side. “Good morning, Adney.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Ann chuckled, feeling boneless as she rolled over to cuddle into her wife’s side. “We’re going back to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we?” Anne’s low voice had that touch of teasing that drove Ann wild; her long fingers tapped along Ann’s bare back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she answered definitively, wrapping an arm possessively around Anne’s slim waist. “Don’t you dare get up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t. She didn’t even try. Anne Lister, who was usually in such a rush, turned into a lazy bum; she traced shapeless patterns along Ann’s back, drummed her fingers along her hip, stroked her hair. The terrifying Mistress of Shibden Hall tamed into Adney’s gentle Pony. A married woman with a proper family who stayed in bed until after the sun rose. Ann kissed her shoulder affectionately before she closed her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so proud of you, Pony.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!!</p><p>I have some family stuff to do tomorrow and Tuesday, so probably won’t get a chance to write 😔 Should be back on Wednesday night with something fresh. What do you want to see these ladies get up to next?</p><p>Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0039"><h2>39. The Three Steps 2.0</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>kind of a shorty today, but it’s got Feelings and Smut. So... hope that’s okay?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ann was meeting her friends in town for lunch, Anne remembered. Their actual honeymoon was postponed until the end of term; Anne had insisted on more than a few days abroad to celebrate their wedding. They were spending the rest of the break around town instead, just enjoying a few days off together, at home, married. Heaven.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were still sleeping out in their makeshift honeymoon suite, and she’d spent the morning in her wife’s embrace, unable to pry herself away until long after the sun had risen. There was a chill in the air today, but that hadn’t stopped Anne from stomping around the estate with Washington until after eleven. She’d ended up near the outskirts of town, walking Washington back to that house bursting with daughters. By the time she got there, she realized it was only a handful of miles to the restaurant where Ann was meeting Harriet and Catherine; if she hurried, she figured she could meet them before they left. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had an annoying tickle at the back of her mind for the entire walk. She pulled her hoodie up against the wind, trying and failing to avoid the mud under her boots. This whole thing was entirely too familiar, but she couldn’t quite figure out how or why. Anne had been here before, she thought, though it wasn’t clear to her exactly when or why. It didn’t matter, deep down, because her entire being was so closely attuned to Ann. Finding Ann. Being with Ann. Seeing her again and hearing her laugh and feeling the warmth of her soft hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reaching the restaurant, Anne slipped past the hostess and through the crowded tables, weaving her way to the back of the restaurant toward that familiar knot of blonde hair. Ann had worn it up today, she saw as she approached, with a soft green sweater and a bright smile as her blue eyes landed on her wife. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello,” Anne purred as she approached the table, flopping into the seat next to her wife. “Do you mind?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ladies demurred, Harriet looking perhaps a bit more sullen than Catherine. She never had approved, had she? Anne mused, kissing her wife’s cheek and reaching onto her plate for a fry. Harriet was so uptight in comparison to Catherine; her large eyes seemed to widen further, as if she wanted to take in more and more of Anne’s flaws. Her pastels and soft makeup didn’t fool Anne - she knew just how dangerous a woman like this could be. If she got the wrong idea about Anne, she could drip confusion and doubt into Ann’s ear. Anne narrowed her eyes; she’d seen this happen before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good to see you, Lister,” Catherine said affectionately. “You look like shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Always a pleasure, Miss Rawson. How are you, Miss Parkhill?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Quite well, Dr. Lister,’ Harriet answered stiffly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing here, darling?” Ann asked, her face bright as she wiped a smudge from Anne’s cheek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I walked Washington to his house, and then, you know, I wasn’t far from here. I knew three of my very favorite people would be here, and I thought,” she spread her arms wide and shrugged, “there was nowhere I’d rather be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Washington,” Harriet said carefully, “he lives about four miles from here, is that right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Think so,” Anne said with a grin, popping a fry into her mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re glad to have you.” Ann slipped her hand to Anne’s knee. “Are you hungry? We can order you something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, no,” she took another of Ann’s fries. “I’m not hungry at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Ann teased, making Catherine laugh. “I was just telling them what a lovely few days we’ve had.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haven’t we just?” Anne draped her arm along the back of her wife’s chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You two make me sick,” Catherine sneered playfully. “What have you been doing all day? Is there any mud left outside or is it all over your clothes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Anne looked down at her dirty hoodie and mud-splattered boots just as Harriet started speaking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you - your clothes are - well, you -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid I’m rather dirty, aren’t I?” Anne said sheepishly, drawing her arm back into her lap and clasping her hands; she could feel that protective shield rising. She’d overstepped, hadn’t she? Poor Ann, no doubt helplessly embarrassed by her shabby, gauche wife in front of her friends. “Apologies, ladies, I will -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ann’s hand caught hers just as she started to stand; furrowing her brow, Anne sank back into the chair. She didn’t follow the rest of the trio’s conversation; all of her attention was focused on the comforting circles Ann’s thumb drew along her thigh, the glint in her wife’s eye, the warmth of her laughter. When Harriet and Catherine finally shuffled away, Anne turned to her wife with a confused sort of smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have I embarrassed you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not.” Ann’s brows knit together as she turned to face her, her denim-clad knees crossed and pointing right at Anne, who resisted the urge to pull her into her lap. “Why would you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m filthy,” Anne shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know I like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I walked halfway across Halifax to get here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dr. Lister, are you trying to seduce me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anne threw her head back and laughed, shaking her head at the impossible, sexy, amazing woman next to her. Ann squeezed her knee and stood, sliding her arms into what appeared to be Anne’s leather jacket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what’s that?” Anne asked as they slipped out the side door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ann looped her arm through Anne’s, leading her away from the parking lot and toward the scrubby park nearby. Anne leaned down to whisper in her ear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you wearing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jeans, jumper, flats,” Ann said innocently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stealing my clothes now, is it, Mrs. Lister?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘What’s mine is yours, Pony.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Anne chuckled, “and where are we going right now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s a little gazebo back here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I was feeling particularly warm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Were you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe it’s your jacket,” Ann teased, leaning into her side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe you should take it off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think so,” Ann spun around, leaning back against the chipped white paint. “I think you like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if I do?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anne stepped forward, her face just a hair’s breadth from her wife’s. She looked over each shoulder before turning back to her with a grin. An excellent plan, as always, from Ann Walker Lister. The gazebo was deserted even on the warmest days, but on this grey April afternoon? They couldn’t be more alone. A thatch of trees behind Ann protected them on one side, a shabby structure holding toilets and water fountains shielded the other. Anne inhaled deeply; she could make this work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I guess you should kiss me,” Ann whispered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipping her head, Anne leaned down to bring their lips together. She slid her hands along Ann’s sides, under that damned jacket, caressing her ribs with her thumbs, digging into her back, sliding up to cup her breasts. Ann tilted her head, running her hands up Anne’s arms to cup her face. Lacking the luxuries of time and privacy, Anne was aware this needed to happen quickly. She was also aware of the persistent press of Ann’s hips against her own, the slick slide of her tongue in her mouth, the soft murmurs spilling from her throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Needy, are you?” She husked, turning her attention to Ann’s neck. “No patience.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“None,” Ann sighed happily, fiddling with the waistband of Anne’s worn, dirty jeans. “Not when you’re around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Adney, I -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hush,” she chided, turning Anne around to press her into the hard wood of the gazebo. “I have been thinking about you all day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you?” Anne squeaked, her hips jerking as Ann slid into her boxers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And then there you were.” Ann kissed the side of her neck, her fingers slowly, stroking Anne’s core. “Like a vision. Dirty and breathless and musky. God, it’s like every time I see you, you get hotter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Adney,” she breathed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously, Pony, fuck. You have dirt, like, on your face.” She circled Anne’s clit, dragging her tongue along her neck. “You’re sweaty. I just - fuck, you’re hot. Every version of you is my favorite.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anne’s head was spinning - Ann always knew what to say, didn’t she? That insecurity faded away, erased by the gentle, persistent movement of Ann’s fingers between her legs. Ann sucked at her neck, strummed her clit, pressed the full, soft length of her body against Anne’s; a low moan tore through Anne’s throat, her arms slipping under that leather jacket to pull her wife impossibly closer. The fire between her legs burned brighter with every tantalizing stroke and teasing kiss. Her hips jerked and her abs contracted with the first wave of her release. Ann sucked at her pulse point, her fingers flicking faster and harder as she drove Anne into oblivion. With a choked gasp and a full-body shudder, Anne succumbed to the intense, comforting warmth of her release. Ann kissed the spot behind her ear and pulled her hand away, doing up Anne’s jeans as she panted above her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good Lord, Adney,” Anne breathed, sagging back against the wood; she spread her legs and pulled her wife to stand between them. “You’re a bloody magician.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just love you,” Ann said simply, running her hands up the front of Anne’s hoodie to her shoulders before bringing their lips together quickly. “You can’t believe how wet I got as soon as you walked in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you check?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laughing, Anne leaned forward to crash their lips together, her hands finding her wife’s hips, pressing her forward until Ann’s back hit the opposite side of the archway. Ann tangled her fingers in Anne’s hair, pulling her closer and moaning into her mouth. Rolling her hips, Anne pressed her body into her wife’s, breaking away to pay homage to her pale neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your hands,” Ann gasped, “are they - is - have you washed them?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Anne laughed, pulling away, kneading her hips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Weren’t you just working outside?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anne held up her hands - spotless, of course, as Anne always wore gloves when she worked on the estate. Blushing, Ann bit her lip and took both of her hands; she pressed her lips to the knuckles of each.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will I suit?” She grinned down at her wife. “Shall we just go home?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pony!” Ann giggled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If my hands aren’t good enough,” Anne pouted playfully, “we can -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pony!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess we could go home, and I could wash my hands there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anne turned away as if to leave, but Ann caught her by the belt loop. Laughing, they crashed back together, Ann’s gentle hands on her cheeks as their lips met in a series of slow, deep kisses. Anne trailed her hands down her wife’s supple body, relishing the warmth under her jumper, the smoothness of her skin, the urgency in her hips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pony,” she breathed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Humming softly, Anne maneuvered her hand into her wife’s panties, pressing her lips to the pale column of her neck. Ann’s arms wrapped around her back, her hips angling upward as Anne traced through her arousal. Between gentle bites and firm kisses, Anne angled her head away from her wife’s neck to check their surroundings; Ann, for her part, had closed her eyes, her lips parted by a string of gentle moans, totally lost to Anne’s touch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pony.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so beautiful,” she husked in Ann’s ear. “You feel so good.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a desperate whine, Ann bucked her hips upward. Pulling back for a half a beat, Anne took in her flushed face and heaving chest; impatient as always, Ann curled her fist in the front of Anne’s hoodie, crashing their lips together as Anne eased her middle finger between her folds. Ann bit her bottom lip, a low moan rumbling in her throat, as her hips matched the pace of Anne’s hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Faster,” Ann breathed, burying her face in the front of Anne’s hoodie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Dutiful as ever</span>
  <span>, Anne slid her index finger into her wife’s clutching center, rutting her hand faster and harder as she molded their bodies together. Ann’s high, breathy moans filled her ear, her fingers digging into her shoulders, her hips rolling urgently with every thrust. Anne pressed against her clit harder, grinning into her wife’s neck at the first flutter around her fingers. Only a few more strokes, and Ann was trembling in her arms, turning to jelly as she surrendered to her climax. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Adney,” she whispered, pressing her lips to the warm skin of her wife’s neck. Ann groaned, shivering as Anne pulled her hand away. “Hey,” Anne tilted her wife’s head up and brought their lips together, “can I tell you how much I love you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Maybe in a minute,” Ann breathed. “I think I might be dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You’re fine,” she chuckled, leading Ann to the bench inside the gazebo and wrapping her arm around her shoulders. “Can I tell you something?” Ann nodded, her blonde head pressed into Anne’s chest. “I’ve told you about the time Mariana, uh, you know, the time I ran into her and her friends. And she was -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I remember,” Ann said softly, toying with the hem of Anne’s hoodie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Then you must know, Adney, how much it means to me that you - that I could sit with you and your friends. That you - that you wanted me, as dirty and stinky as I was, and -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I always want you, Pony.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I know, I know,” Anne said quickly, “I just - that was very healing for me. I think. I - it means a lot to me that - you know how complicated all of this is for me. I just - God, it feels good to be married to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Grinning, Ann reached up to hold Anne’s chin between her thumb and forefinger. For a moment, they smiled at each other before their lips met. Anne held her wife’s hips, hoisting her into her lap as their tongues tangled. She didn’t care about being seen anymore. Who cared? For once in her life she had someone who wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with her - who wanted to hold her hand in public and sit with her in a restaurant and shag her in the secluded corner of a park. The novelty and exhilaration of this fact would never wear off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“We have to go,” Ann breathed, her chest heaving as she pressed her forehead to Anne’s. “Let’s go home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Nodding, Anne tipped her wife to her feet, taking her hand as they strolled to Ann’s car. She pressed her lips to the back of Ann’s hand before they parted to climb inside; though Ann was getting better at driving, it went without saying that Anne would drive the to Shibden. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Oh, this is so much better,” Ann said as they pulled out of the parking lot. “I’m so glad you turned up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Are you?” Anne shot a smile at her wife. “I don’t think Harriet likes me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Who gives a shit?” Ann laughed. “She doesn’t get to decide. You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> wife, Pony. I don’t give a damn what anybody else thinks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Stop being so sexy,” she teased, reaching out to squeeze her wife’s knee. “You know what that does to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I’m being serious!” Ann took her hand from her knee, kissing her rings. “It doesn’t matter to me. I’m proud to be yours no matter what and no matter where. In your morning suit at that church and in your dirty old boots at a café. You know that, Pony.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I do,” she answered softly, fighting back the lump in her throat. “I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>She did, of course. Ann had told her this dozens - if not hundreds - of times. It didn’t diminish the effect of her words; the depth and sincerity of Ann’s love still baffled her. How was this even possible? Objectively, this shouldn’t have happened. Anne was too loud and opinionated and dirty and masculine and stubborn and kind of a prick half of the time. No one should put up with this, least of all someone as sweet and genuine as Ann Walker. And yet, here they were. Driving to the home they shared where their family waited and their clothes hung together in the closet and their nightstands were stacked high with books and tissues and all the debris of married life. It shouldn’t have happened, and yet it did. Incredibly, two people found each other at exactly the right time and exactly the right place. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!!</p>
<p>Big shoutout to JaneC for the idea to revisit some negative moments with Mariana and the positive way that Ann would react instead. The Three Steps incident always stands out to me as the defining break in Anne’s idyllic view of the situation with Mariana. Where Mary tore Anne down for her appearance, Ann is invigorated by it and encourages it. </p>
<p>Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. Happy Birthday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>“Hi,” Anne murmured, feeling soft lips press against her jawline and slender arms wrap around her waist. Sleepily, she ran one hand along her wife’s forearm, licking her lips as she asked, “what time is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Good morning, darling,” Ann whispered, her tongue darting out to trace the shell of Anne’s ear. “I slept well.” She kissed the side of Anne’s neck. “I woke up aching for you.” Her hips pressed gently into Anne’s behind. “Do you need to know the bloody time?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I guess not,” she sighed appreciatively, rolling onto her back and allowing Ann to crawl on top of her; their lips met in a languid kiss, hands roaming slowly and throats humming softly. “This is a nice way to wake up.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Happy Birthday, darling,” Ann said softly before catching her lips again. “I didn’t get you anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You didn’t?” Anne chuckled and squeezed her hips. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Am I not gift enough?” Her wife asked coquettishly. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Laughing and flipping them over, Anne shook her head, amazed at the impish, silly, teasing woman below her. How was this the same person who’d been branded an invalid? Reclusive and agoraphobic? Fragile and shy? She brought their lips together again, letting the lethargy of sleep ease from her body as Ann’s small hands traveled across her back and arms. Yes, of course, Ann Walker was certainly gift enough. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What do you want to do today?” Ann breathed as she pulled away, her hands slipping under Anne’s t-shirt and tracing across her stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“This.” Anne kneaded her wife’s hips, her voice coming off huskier and needier than she’d intended. Ann hooked her fingers in the waistband of Anne’s boxer shorts, sending a thrill up Anne’s spine. “Forever. Let’s never leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Fine with me,” Ann grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they so often did in the mornings, they moved together slowly. For once, Anne didn’t feel a rush of desire and desperation. She had all the time in the world. Deep kisses and exploring hands soaked up every ounce of her concentration, until she shifted to press her lips to the expanse of white skin that made up her wife’s neck. She bunched up Ann’s sleeping shirt, revealing her creamy breasts and soft belly. Inhaling deeply, she pressed her forehead between Ann’s breasts for a moment, awed and grateful.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Pony?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah?” She whispered into Ann’s soft skin.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Ann stroked the back of Anne’s head, scratching her scalp lightly; Anne looked up at her and pressed her lips to her soft skin for a long moment. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Never better.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I love you,” Ann said, her voice encouraging and gentle as if she could sense the lump in Anne’s throat. “I’ve had a perfect week with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Me too,” she answered softly, filling her lungs with the scent that lived on her wife’s skin. “I don’t want it to be over.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Pony.” Ann pulled gently on her hair, forcing Anne to look up and meet her eyes. “It’s not over. It’s just beginning. Don’t you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Like a shot of adrenaline, Ann’s words invigorated her. Anne’s heart raced as she took one of her breasts between her lips and the other in her hand. Only just beginning, her life with Ann Walker. Their entire marriage stretched before them. They hadn’t even gotten started. They were still out in the chaumière, on this quasi-honeymoon. Tomorrow would be Easter, and then they’d go back to their regular lives. For once, domesticity didn’t frighten her. She couldn’t stop thinking what a thrill that would be. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Ann moaned softly as Anne trailed her lips across the valley between her breasts, dragged her tongue along the soft swells, grazed her teeth gently across her nipples. Shifting downward, Anne turned her attention to the pale skin covering her ribs; she relished the flush that deepened with every stroke of her tongue and press of her lips, the gentle hums spilling from her wife’s mouth, the impatient squirm of her hips. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Adney,” she breathed, kissing the inside of each thigh. “Oh, I do love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Ann sighed happily, the ease and familiarity of her movements warming Anne’s heart. She just hooked her leg over Anne’s shoulder as if there were nothing more natural in the world, and, actually, there wasn’t, was there? The lift of her hips and the tender tangle of her fingers in Anne’s hair - was there anything so sensual and comfortable and well-practiced? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their bodies worked together like two halves of the same machine. Anne’s tongue tracing gently through her wife’s folds. Soft murmurs as she teased her clit and tasted her arousal. Low moans rumbling from Ann’s throat. Her small hand holding Anne close, the other massaging her own breast. Broad hands covering pale hips. Gentle strokes and soft kisses unraveling Ann Walker, until she was bucking, whining, begging. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please.” Her voice was thin, needy, breathless; Anne couldn’t help grinning with pride. “Pony. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Anne breathed against Ann’s sensitive core. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anne,” she whined, vainly pressing against Anne’s hands. “Come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>”It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> birthday, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anne.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you think,” she kissed the crease where Ann’s leg met her torso, “I should enjoy my gift,” the same, on the opposite side, “how I want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not if you’re going to torture me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne could practically hear the pout on her wife’s face, so she decided to take mercy on her. With steady, firm ministrations, she teased Ann to the brink, taking her clit between her lips and holding her hips still as she shuddered into her release. Ann’s breathy fragments echoed in Anne’s ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, I - right there, ye- yes, fuck, yes, yes, I’m - fu- yes, yes, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a final, wordless moan, Ann relaxed into the sheets, her body going limp as Anne pulled away. Anne traced a path back up her wife’s flushed body, pressing her lips to every inch of available skin until she reached Ann’s parted lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, baby,” she husked, kissing her sloppily. “How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>I?” Ann giggled, pulling Anne’s t-shirt over her head. “I’m fucking amazing, how about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” Anne hopped to the floor and stepped out of her boxers, sputtering in surprise as Ann steered her to the couch. “What’s this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to paint you.” Ann kissed her hard, her hands digging into Anne’s hip for a beat. “Sit down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adney,” she said helplessly as her wife trotted away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sinking down onto the sofa, Anne watched in disbelief as Ann stepped into her discarded boxers and picked up her palate. Surely, Ann didn’t mean to leave her like this? Force her to watch as Ann painted her, topless, with Anne’s loose green boxers around her hips. Tease her with those appraising eyes and nimble fingers moving across the canvas. Make her wait for nearly an hour, with this aching need between her legs and her heart racing in her ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course she did. Of course, Ann Walker did this to her. On her bloody birthday of all days. Perhaps this was her gift. Just a day of anticipation and Ann and ecstasy and their naked bodies tangling together and becoming one. What an incredible, infuriating way to celebrate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adney,” she begged, crossing her legs tighter. “I can’t believe you’re making me wait like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking,” Ann said carefully, setting down her paints and crossing the room, “about our trip to Scotland.” She stood in front of her, teasing Anne with her full breasts, her creamy belly giving way to the sharp line of Anne’s shorts; she bent forward, kissed Anne quickly, then wriggled out of her reach. “That night you tried to tease me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne watched her delicate back disappear into the bathroom; the water running in the sink nearly overpowered her shy voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking you might like the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking,” Ann drawled, reappearing, “about teasing you. You know? Making it last longer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adney,” her lower lip jutted out as Ann reapproached, “it’s my birthday. Do you have to tase me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ann giggled and placed her hands on Anne’s broad shoulders; Anne couldn’t resist holding her hips, itching to tug her wife into her lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’d be fun. The longer the wait,” Ann paused, toying with her hair, “the bigger the reward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking up at her innocent little wife with the pink flush spreading across her bare chest, Anne knew she’d do it. She’d give in, let Ann drive her absolutely crazy, and love every moment of it. She sighed, kissed the stretch of skin directly in front of her, and stood. Ann tilted her chin, their lips meshing in a series of slow, deep kisses as Anne led them back to the bed. She sat down, pulling Ann into her lap and roaming the soft skin of her back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, Pony,” Ann said into her neck, pressing her lips gently to her pulse point, “I don’t want you to come without my permission, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne groaned and tilted her head back as Ann peppered kisses along her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious. If you come before I say so, I won’t give you your gift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you didn’t get me a gift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you knew that was a lie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne laughed, allowing her ridiculous wife to push her back into the sheets. Ann’s slender fingers found the apex of her thighs, traced through her arousal, sent shivers up her spine. Anne was so, so close already. A morning of watching Ann paint half-naked had nearly set her aflame. And now she was on top of her? Her breasts pressing into Anne’s and her fingers tracing between her thighs? Sod the gift, Anne might </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to come out of biological necessity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be good, Pony,” Ann teased, circling her clit with devastating tenderness. “I know you can be good for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne moaned as her wife shifted to take her nipple between her lips, flicking her tongue over the hard peak and sending a surge of arousal between her thighs. Ann’s wet fingers traced up her stomach, over her ribs, to the hard bud of her nipple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ann,” she begged, rolling her hips against the air, desperate for even the slightest friction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her wife paid no heed, however, and continued her deliberate and maddening path across Anne’s chest. Touches that used to make Anne curl up in discomfort now revitalized her, and she threaded her hands through Ann’s blonde locks just to keep her close. Where Anne’s climaxes were once rushed and furtive and self-administered, Ann had flung the door open, insisted on long hours to explore Anne’s body, expanded Anne’s boundaries, stroke by tantalizing stroke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When that blonde head finally found its way between Anne’s thighs, Anne decided to forfeit the gift. She didn’t care. There was no physical way that she could hold back - not with the way Ann’s tongue moved or her lips closed or her small hand slipped Anne’s knee over her shoulder. She closed her eyes, cupping the back of Ann’s head and guiding her as she lapped and sucked and hummed against her core. Anne’s hips jerked with the first wave of her release. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” Ann scolded, pulling away immediately. “Bad Pony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ann. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so.” Ann kissed her belly. “I’m not quite ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bloody well am!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pony, Pony, Pony.” Ann made her way slowly up Anne’s body until she hovered over her face. “Don’t you trust me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne just groaned, feeling her climax ebbing away from her as Ann brought their lips together again. Their bodies molded together, Ann’s breasts sliding deliciously against her own; Anne wrapped her arms around her wife’s back, holding her close as their hips rolled in unison. Desire coiled anew in her gut as Ann straddled her thigh, traced her soft fingers along Anne’s arm, down her stomach, over the sharp jut of her hip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, Pony, I wonder if you deserve it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adney.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have been very good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Anne said urgently, nodding her head as Ann rose up on her knees. “I have been.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But then I wonder if I want your cock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she breathed, her clit already tingling at the thought of that magical base. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, in horror, she watched her wife toy with the black silicone as if to remove it. Eyes wide and stomach twisted in fear, she shot a hand out to catch Ann’s arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t what?” Ann smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t - I need - please, darling, you know how - how I feel about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I do,” her wife sighed, releasing the base and handing the strap over to Anne. “I’m not entirely heartless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The security of the harness and the anticipation of what was to come only stoked the roaring flame between her legs. She was practically salivating by the time she settled over her wife, her hands on either side of her pretty blonde head, her knees between her creamy white thighs. The whole of Ann Walker spread before her. And she wasn’t allowed to come? Had there ever been more exquisite, exasperating bliss?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ann, I - I can’t believe how beautiful you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her wife just smiled, wrapping one hand around her neck and tracing the other down her body to the thick silicone of her cock. A shiver skated up Anne’s spine as Ann guided her cock to her center; her heart raced as Ann’s pale hand slid her cock between her own folds. They moaned in unison as Anne pressed forward, slowly sheathing herself in the clutching depths of her wet core. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Adney, I,” Anne grunted, twisting her hips and shivering with pleasure, “I can’t wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d better,” Ann purred, her soft hands slipping down Anne’s back, “or I'll be very cross with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne gritted her teeth, reveling in the steady build of warmth between her legs. She thrust deeply and slowly, forcing her climax to the back of her mind. Instead, she focused on the soft sighs falling from her wife’s lips, the soft pressure of her hands around Anne’s shoulders, the comforting lock of Ann’s ankles around her back. Actually, this was incredible, once she got her mind wrapped around it. Her pleasure grew higher and stronger than she thought possible; the build-up was incredible, impossible, indescribable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pony,” Ann moaned as she sped up. “Right there, baby, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a grin, Anne drove her hips forward again; Ann’s breathy cry seemed to shoot straight from her ears to her clit. She shifted to snake a hand between their bodies, finding Ann’s clit hard and begging for her. She moved faster, pumping her hips with abandon. Every desperate, forceful thrust brought Ann closer to the edge; she could only pray that Ann would let her come with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ann, I -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Ann breathed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I -?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, baby,” Ann whined, her breasts jostling with each satisfying rut of her wife’s hips. “Come with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the permission that released her; Ann shuddered, and Anne exploded over her. Hardly aware of her own actions, Anne pounded urgent between her wife’s legs. Their skin slapped together, the bed creaked, desperate cries clawed from their throats and ricocheted against the walls. Wave after wave crashed into her; it was all Anne could do to hold onto her wife as she succumbed to oblivion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Pony,” Ann groaned, her soft hands rubbing Anne’s back reassuringly. “Fuck, that was good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne just grunted, pulling out and rolling tiredly to the side. She shivered as Ann pulled the harness from her hips and went about a slow, purposeful worship of Anne’s sweaty body. She kissed every inch of her torso, her arms, her legs as she spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy Birthday, my darling. I love you. You make me feel so good. You are so sexy. So handsome. So beautiful. So smart and kind and generous. I love you, Anne.” She hovered over Anne’s face, kissing her softly. “Happy Birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Ann,” she pulled her wife to her chest, “you are a cruel mistress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so,” Ann sighed happily, settling her head on Anne’s shoulder. “I think you loved it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll never recover. You’ve broken me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you don’t want your gift?” She asked innocently, tracing circles along Anne’s belly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do!” Anne protested “I think I earned it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess you did,” her wife chuckled, kissing her quickly before scrambling to her feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne sighed in contentment, watching her wife pad over to her suitcase. Perhaps her breathing would never return to normal, or her heart to its regular beat. Perhaps she’d live always in this state of exhausted satisfaction. Perhaps she wanted to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy Birthday,” Ann said proudly, sitting in front of her and presenting her with a blue-and-white striped box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne tore into the paper, pulling out a slender black box. She looked up at her wife, then flicked it open. A slender silver pen rested inside, with “Pony” engraved in careful script. She looked up at Ann again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, okay, so look.” Ann said quickly. “I got you a few other things, and I’ll give them to you with the rest of the family. But this - this one is for us. Because I love watching you scribble in that journal of yours, and that feels really, um, personal. Like, just between us. I’m so - so impressed with your attention to detail and your - your dedication to your diary. You’ve written down your entire life. The story of Shibden and Mariana and heartbreaks and dead languages. What are you going to write next? Will you write the story of us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne didn’t even care that she was crying as she cupped her wife’s face and kissed her soundly. She’d waited ages for this - for someone to accept her and hold her and love her. Ann Walker did all of that, even when Anne was pouring her innermost thoughts onto the page. Even when she was torturing her in bed. Even when she was undermining her in front of the family. Anne had been to hell and back waiting for her, but Ann Walker was worth the wait.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!!</p><p>Thank you thank you thank you for your thoughtful and generous comments on the last chapter! I’ll get to responding tomorrow, but please know I read them all! I so appreciate you all. </p><p>This felt like a good place to wrap up the Spring Term piece of our story, but, if there’s interest, I’ll keep going into the summer. I still have a few ideas, but, also, I’ve written 500k+ on this series, so... I get it if it’s like... move on. Let me know if want me to keep going, but no hard feelings if you think this story has come to its conclusion. 😊</p><p>Thank you for reading!! You all keep me motivated to keep writing, and you have the best ideas!!</p><p>P.S. I see y’all in that Shibden After Dark group😉 glad y’all are enjoying😊</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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